A self-imposed challenge of my own creation, running from February 1, 2016 to February 29, 2016. I only plan to start these stories (producing around a thousand words for each), not to finish them within the month.
Title: Look Who's On Top Pairing/Rating: Simon/Frost NC-17 Challenges: T1-4 (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/12045.html?thread=22797#t22797). Look who's on top! [15pairings (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/12045.html)] Summary: top!Simon not during a threesome/foursome
How long had it been, Simon wondered, since Frost had actually spent the night without Sparrow? There was one time, Simon recalled, back in the very beginning of this, only a few weeks after the Culling, perhaps only a few days after he'd met Sparrow himself, when Frost had let her spend the night in the second room of the suite with Nadia while Frost took Simon to his bed instead. And, he realized perhaps a bit begrudgingly, this entire relationship could be traced back to that night, couldn't it? That was the night Nadia had persuaded Sparrow to try masturbating, and that was the night Frost had first gotten it in his head that Sparrow would get off on the idea of the two of them together, and from there, it'd all been downhill. One threesome turned into another, which turned into a foursome, which turned into whatever the hell was happening now.
And try as he might to pretend otherwise, Simon knew exactly what this was. Frost was being an idiot, as usual, but this time, he was being downright reckless. Letting Sparrow alone with Seth Reinhold was the worst idea Simon had ever heard--the only thing he could imagine that could possibly be worse was the thought letting Octavian have her, and this was just barely a step above it. Seth Reinhold was dangerous, as likely to kill her as to fuck her, and Simon would do damn near anything if it meant persuading her to sever ties with him once and for all. Frost, being Frost, knew that damn well.
So here he was, glaring at the door to Frost's bedroom while he tried to persuade himself to knock on the door and make his presence known. Frost had already explained to him what was going on--to an extent, at least, and Simon had been able to infer from there. Sparrow was spending the night with her new boy toy in the spare room, taking for granted that she wasn't going to end up dead by morning, and Frost fully intended to use it as an opportunity to try to sway Simon into going along with his batshit crazy schemes.
For Frost, of course, this was a win/win situation. By letting Sparrow spend the night with her new lover--who, from all that Simon had heard, wanted nothing at all to do with Frost and violently refused to touch him--a refusal that was only tolerated because of Sparrow's interference, Simon knew--Frost would be winning Sparrow's favor, however slightly. Meanwhile, he'd have the chance to go to work on Simon, trying once again to present the idea of a more... permanent relationship as something that wasn't an utterly horrifying prospect. And even Simon could admit that he'd have a better shot at it than usual, though he certainly wasn't about to actually let Frost convince him of anything. Frost, Simon knew, was going to keep reminding him that Sparrow and Seth were next door, doing who the fuck wanted to know what to each other, and Frost was going to try to present this--the idea of replacing her romance with this latest, most insane victor with an ongoing polyamory between Frost, Sparrow, Nadia, and himself--as the best alternative. And while Simon certainly wasn't going to argue that it was certainly a better idea than letting Sparrow keep fucking Seth... he wasn't about to give up his own freedom, either.
And so, of course, Frost knew that even if he failed to convince Simon tonight, he would at least get a solid fuck out of it. Simon wondered if the same could be said for himself, or if that was to be his punishment for refusing. He wouldn't put it past Frost to leave him hanging.
With a sigh, he reached out and knocked on the door--and waited.
The door opened within a few seconds, and Simon was distinctly unimpressed to find Frost standing on the other side of it, dripping wet and wearing only a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He raised a brow as he walked past the other man into the room, trying to make sure his up-and-down glance was as judgmental as he could make it. "Did I catch you at a bad time or something?" he asked as he headed toward the bed. "Because if you're too busy, we can always call this off."
Frost just gave him a sly little smirk. "I was in the shower, Simon. Well, we were."
Simon was determined not to give him the reaction he was looking for, whatever that might actually be. "We?" he repeated, fairly pleased with how disinterested he managed to sound.
"Sparrow and I," Frost said, as if Simon had thought he'd meant him and Seth. "I wanted to make sure she was thoroughly satisfied before I let him have her. Can't be sure he'll get the job done, after all."
Simon struggled to resist rolling his eyes. "And Sparrow let you?" he asked. "I guess you didn't present it quite that way, then, did you?"
Frost's smirk made his skin crawl. "She made a few excuses, sure," he confirmed, and Simon quickly brushed away the thought of Sparrow trying--and failing--to deter his advances, "but I made it worth her while, believe me."
"Couldn't let her go without having her first, could you?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound quite as disgusted as he felt. "You had to make sure he knew you'd fucked her right before?"
Frost couldn't have been less apologetic about it if he'd tried. "Yes," he confirmed, and Simon eyed him warily as he advanced, a bit of swagger in his hips that Simon wasn't quite sure he trusted. "And he's going to know. I sent her in there so thoroughly fucked that he's not going to be able to forget me." There was a dangerous look in Frost's eyes as he drew near, steadily closing the distance between them, but Simon held both his ground and his nonchalance. It was disconcerting, he realized, to know that look was possessiveness. The man couldn't even be jealous properly, utterly willing to give his partner over to whoever she took an interest in and yet somehow still entirely convinced that his was the claim that mattered, even though it was his and his alone that had been forced upon her against her will. "When he fucks her tonight, he's going to know I was the one who got her that wet for him. And when he tries to kiss her--if he decides to get on his knees and bury his face between her legs--he's going to be tasting me."
Simon stared back at the other man, unwilling to let that disturbingly intense look unsettle him. "So... I'm gonna have to wait for you to get it back up, is what you're saying?"
Frost laughed, and Simon flinched as he reached up to touch his fingers to his jawline. Frost was looking at him with a hunger Simon hadn't seen turned in his direction for quite some time, not since those first few weeks of Simon's own captivity, and he was well aware that it wasn't about him at all; this was entirely about Sparrow, and every single ounce of that lust was borne of the disturbing little power game he was playing against Seth. It was just Simon's luck that he'd get caught in the middle.
"No, dear, that's not at all what I'm saying. I don't need to be hard for what we're going to do tonight."
That caught him off guard. Simon quickly schooled his surprised expression into something more skeptical, not at all prepared to believe this was actually going to go in a direction he actually wouldn't mind. "Don't you?"
Simon felt Frost tracing his jawline with his fingertips, and he had the distinct impression of being trapped in the cage of a hungry lion. "Not unless you've got your heart set on getting fucked tonight. If you do, I don't mind... but I was rather hoping you'd want to top."
Somehow, being offered what he wanted--or, more accurately, hearing that Frost wanted it, too--felt like a trap, and there was a small part of him that wondered if perhaps Frost was a bit more interested in Seth than he had let on. It would be just his luck if Sparrow had dropped him to fuck some lunatic, only for Frost to use him as the same man's stand-in. Wonderful.
"Couldn't persuade her new boyfriend to do it, I suppose?" He hoped he wasn't pushing his luck too far. It was always rather hard to tell with Frost.
To his relief, Frost merely seemed amused, and Simon watched uncertainly as he leaned in closer until they are almost near enough to kiss. "No," he admitted, "I couldn't. He's much harder to convince than the rest of you were. Of course, the rest of you didn't have Sparrow protecting you, did you? If she has her way, I'll never lay a hand on him."
Frost shrugged. "Like I told her, I would prefer if we shared our lovers. But as I've said before, that's not always possible. And the two of them are trying very hard to convince me that as far as Seth is concerned, it's not."
"She'll never forgive you if you try to force him. And, honestly, I doubt you'd survive; the man seems unhinged enough already."
The sharp bark of laughter came as a surprise. "Believe me, Simon, if I decided to try taking what I wanted from him, I wouldn't have either of them in any position to fight back. But since we're sharing him with the rest of the Circle... That idea is out. Any others?"
Simon's stomach roiled as he considered what exactly Frost was telling him. (What would he have done to them?) But he pushed the discomfort aside expertly; war knew he'd had plenty of practice these past few years. "Break them up." If he was giving advice, he supposed, it might as well be honest.
Frost looked amused, no doubt because Simon was, more or less, playing into his game. "She wouldn't forgive me for that, either. Besides, there's no real reason to separate them; not yet, at least. He hasn't tried to hurt her, which is more than a few of his clients can say for themselves, and I'm not such a hypocrite that I'll try to take her lover from her after months of promising that she can fuck whoever she wants."
"And if he does try to hurt her?"
"I've made it abundantly clear that attempting to harm her is a decision he wouldn't live to regret."
Leave it to Frost. "Then I suppose we'll both have to hope he still has his will to live."
For a moment, Frost's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Simon knew he had just offered the other man something he definitely didn't want to hear. Good. "How do you suppose I separate them, then?" he asked, and there was no question of what answer he was fishing for. "He's the first person she's wanted since she's been here."
That was a low blow, and it didn't help that Simon wondered how true it really was; Sparrow had chosen to start a relationship with Seth, but whatever was between herself and Simon, on the other hand, had been entirely instigated by Frost. She had never seemed particularly adverse to him--adverse to the ridiculous thought that she might be taking advantage of him, sure, but not to Simon himself--but perhaps Simon simply didn't know her tells; what was the likelihood, he wondered, that he was just seeing in her what he wanted to see? That he was imagining affection, friendship, even attraction where there was none? He hated to think that he might be the one taking advantage of her.
If there was any blame to be passed out, though, he would put it all squarely on Frost's shoulders.
"I'll take your word for it," he said stiffly. "You're certainly the one who should know the difference, after all, aren't you?"
From the vague amusement on Frost's face, Simon's half-hearted attempt to hurt him did nothing of the sort, but that didn't come as any particular surprise. Simon had long since begun to suspect that when it came to Sparrow, there wasn't anything anyone could say to shake the man's foundation; he thought he was in the right at all times, and nothing short of Sparrow's complete and utter breakdown could convince him that his position in her life wasn't as stable as he had taken it for granted to be.
And even that couldn't make him give this up.
"Simon, I'm serious," Frost went on, his voice frustratingly patient for a man being purposefully antagonized. "If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it. I told you, I'd be more than pleased to redirect her interest in a direction that would benefit me as well as her, but it doesn't appear that's going to happen. She wants him, and since she's turned down every alternative I've proposed…"
"Like who?" Simon demanded, affronted at the thought. What the fuck was going on with Frost these days, he wondered? When had Simon and Nadia stopped being good enough for the two of them, who the hell else was there for Frost to go after, and why the fuck did Simon care in the first place?
"Valter Nikolina," Frost answered, and Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. He should have known. "Felix N--"
"You tried to pick up Felix Numerian?" Simon repeated. "When the hell did that happen, and have you lost your mind? Why exactly are you trying to hand your future wife over to the most dangerous man you can get your hands on? Why don't you just drop the pretense and start fucking Octavian, at that point?"
"Because," Frost said, a hint of something less friendly in his voice now that Simon dared bring up Donahue, "it has to be someone we're both attracted to; someone who's attracted to both of us. Whether it's a man or a woman, I don't care, but Sparrow has made it abundantly clear that she prefers men, so that's what I'm looking for. But above all else, what I need someone who fits. Someone who can assume the role we need him to, someone who won't try to come between us or challenge me or do anything to hurt her."
"Seth Reinhold is not that person."
"No," he admitted, "I don't think he is. But he's what she wants right now, and until someone better steps up to the plate, he's what I intend to give her."
Simon knew exactly what Frost wanted to get out of this; he knew exactly what words Frost wanted to hear him say in response. But Simon wasn't going to offer them, not to Frost and not to anyone. He wasn't going to compromise his freedom; he had a plan, damn it, an actual plan for his future with Nadia, and he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.
Sure, he'd let Sparrow herself come along if that's what she wanted, but Frost was taking things many steps too far. The thought of spending his life with Frost--the thought of spending his life here--was downright horrifying.
"I hope you don't end up regretting that," Simon said finally, feeling defeated. There wasn't anything else he could say.
"I don't think I will," Frost said. "So while she's busy in there fucking her dangerous little friend, I would like to make tonight worth my while. Yours, too, if I can manage it."
Frost had that look on his face now, the familiar, lustful expression that, after three years with the man, Simon had learned to associate with his own arousal and pleasure, and so it was one that he was perhaps a bit ashamed to admit had an immediate effect on him. His pulse quickened as Frost's hands fall to Simon's waist and he tugged him gently but insistently forward.
"What exactly do you want tonight, Frost?" he asked, acutely aware of how close the other man was--and what he was going to be doing with that closeness in just another moment.
"What I want," Frost said, grinning almost mischievously, "is for you to fuck me, Simon. I want to be on my back on that bed with your cock in my ass, and you can be as gentle or cruel about it as you'd like to be. And I want you to make me scream loud enough for the two of them to know exactly what we're doing over here."
"And you're sure you wouldn't rather just head in there and offer them your ass instead?"
Frost chuckled. "I don't think I even trust him enough to fuck him, let alone the other way around. Not yet." Simon glanced down as Frost's hand moved from his hip, coming to rest instead on the towel draped around his hips. He watched Frost loosen it, then let it fall to the floor, and he glanced back up quickly. Frost couldn't have been more obviously aroused. "You, though... You I trust--more or less."
"I'm flattered." Frost's hands were on his pants now, unbuttoning them without so much as hesitating for permission, and then he was insistently tugging off Simon's shirt. "But you're not going to convince me to do anything stupid just by throwing me a bone every now and then. No pun intended."
Frost grinned appreciatively. "I'm not trying to convince you if anything, Simon," he said, the lie as transparent as ever. "I'm trying to get your cock in my mouth."
Simon's breath hitched as Frost dropped to his knees, and he stepped reluctantly out of his pants and shoes before kicking then all into a pile where his shirt had been dropped to the floor. Frost smirked up at him.
"I'd make it worth your while, though, Simon," he said. "I know you know that. You'd have everything you could ever want."
Simon groaned as Frost's lips closed around the head of his cock and his tongue swiped against the slit. The man was a complete and utter fucking bastard, but if there was anything at all to his credit, it was that he at least knew his way around a cock.
Simon let himself relax as Frost pleasured him. It was rare enough that he got this from anyone but Nadia; members of the Circle who were willing to pleasure a victor even as foreplay were few and far between, most of them preferring to have the night's chosen slave work himself (or herself) up on their own, to pleasure himself in front of a captive audience or else to pretend that he needed nothing more to get off than the opportunity to lavish attention on some obscenely rich rapist. Even Frost did this only occasionally; from what he'd been told by Sparrow and Nadia, he seemed to quite enjoying oral when he had a female partner, but if he got any particular enjoyment out of doing this for Simon, he'd certainly never showed it. But Frost was willing to do it, and tonight, Simon was especially grateful for that.
It was a welcome reprieve from the other things he'd been doing the past few days--not to mention a nice alternative to what he'd feared might go down between the two of them while Sparrow was busy with her new beau.
Simon remained entirely passive as Frost licked and sucked at his cock, content to let the man actually work for something for once in his damn life. He was even fighting the urge to reach down and dig his fingers into the other man's ridiculous pale hair; he knew that the moment he had a solid grasp on it, that would've been it. He would've taken control entirely, started fucking into Frost's mouth to chase his orgasm, and as appealing as the idea of using this figurehead of the Circle like a toy, that would've let Frost off the hook. He would've stopped putting any effort into it, and, like Simon had said, he was particularly enjoying the thought of Frost having to work to get him off tonight.
It served the fucker right.
But it wasn't going to last long, he knew. Frost wanted Simon to fuck him--and face-to-face, too, he'd said--and for that, Simon would need to be hard. Sure, his refractory period had been impressively slim ever since the Circle had started doping him with their special cocktail of victor-approved drugs specially designed to build a better sex slave, but he didn't like the thought of what Frost might choose to do with those few minutes before Simon would be able to shut him the hell up the way he wanted.
And so, of course, when he felt his orgasm creeping up on him, his hands finally moved to Frost's head, and he nudged him away. "Stop," he ordered, voice huskier than he wanted to acknowledge, and he was actually a bit surprised when Frost pulled back without any protest. He actually knelt there for a moment, unmoving with his face turned up toward Simon, and there was certainly something about that he liked. In the back of his mind, there was that same dark little voice there always was; a sinister, cruel little piece of his consciousness that reveled in having Frost on his knees and wanted to keep him there, just so that he could abuse him the way Simon himself had been abused.
Sometimes Simon wondered if the rest of them had that same little voice in the back of their minds. Most of the time, though, he simply didn't want to know.
Frost licked his lips, his gaze locked with Simon's. "Are you ready, then?" Frost asked him. "To give me what I want?"
Simon just rolled his eyes. As if he could've said no. "Get on the bed, Frost."
How he managed to stand up with such dignity, Simon didn't know. The man was absurdly comfortable in his own skin. Sure, Simon had never expected him to be bashful or anything of the sort, but even Simon himself wasn't so at ease with doing what Frost had just been doing to him, and Simon was willing to bet he'd had more experience over the past three years than Frost'd had in a lifetime. When Simon stood up from his knees with the taste of another man's cock on his lips, there was nothing dignified about it at all, he knew; spiteful and dismissive and defiantly proud, yes. But never anything approaching dignity.
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.
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[15pairings] look who's on top | top!Simon x Frost not during groupsex
Pairing/Rating: Simon/Frost NC-17
Challenges: T1-4 (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/12045.html?thread=22797#t22797). Look who's on top! [15pairings (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/12045.html)]
Summary: top!Simon not during a threesome/foursome
Look Who's On Top [1/?]
And try as he might to pretend otherwise, Simon knew exactly what this was. Frost was being an idiot, as usual, but this time, he was being downright reckless. Letting Sparrow alone with Seth Reinhold was the worst idea Simon had ever heard--the only thing he could imagine that could possibly be worse was the thought letting Octavian have her, and this was just barely a step above it. Seth Reinhold was dangerous, as likely to kill her as to fuck her, and Simon would do damn near anything if it meant persuading her to sever ties with him once and for all. Frost, being Frost, knew that damn well.
So here he was, glaring at the door to Frost's bedroom while he tried to persuade himself to knock on the door and make his presence known. Frost had already explained to him what was going on--to an extent, at least, and Simon had been able to infer from there. Sparrow was spending the night with her new boy toy in the spare room, taking for granted that she wasn't going to end up dead by morning, and Frost fully intended to use it as an opportunity to try to sway Simon into going along with his batshit crazy schemes.
For Frost, of course, this was a win/win situation. By letting Sparrow spend the night with her new lover--who, from all that Simon had heard, wanted nothing at all to do with Frost and violently refused to touch him--a refusal that was only tolerated because of Sparrow's interference, Simon knew--Frost would be winning Sparrow's favor, however slightly. Meanwhile, he'd have the chance to go to work on Simon, trying once again to present the idea of a more... permanent relationship as something that wasn't an utterly horrifying prospect. And even Simon could admit that he'd have a better shot at it than usual, though he certainly wasn't about to actually let Frost convince him of anything. Frost, Simon knew, was going to keep reminding him that Sparrow and Seth were next door, doing who the fuck wanted to know what to each other, and Frost was going to try to present this--the idea of replacing her romance with this latest, most insane victor with an ongoing polyamory between Frost, Sparrow, Nadia, and himself--as the best alternative. And while Simon certainly wasn't going to argue that it was certainly a better idea than letting Sparrow keep fucking Seth... he wasn't about to give up his own freedom, either.
And so, of course, Frost knew that even if he failed to convince Simon tonight, he would at least get a solid fuck out of it. Simon wondered if the same could be said for himself, or if that was to be his punishment for refusing. He wouldn't put it past Frost to leave him hanging.
With a sigh, he reached out and knocked on the door--and waited.
The door opened within a few seconds, and Simon was distinctly unimpressed to find Frost standing on the other side of it, dripping wet and wearing only a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He raised a brow as he walked past the other man into the room, trying to make sure his up-and-down glance was as judgmental as he could make it. "Did I catch you at a bad time or something?" he asked as he headed toward the bed. "Because if you're too busy, we can always call this off."
Frost just gave him a sly little smirk. "I was in the shower, Simon. Well, we were."
Look Who's On Top [2/?]
"Sparrow and I," Frost said, as if Simon had thought he'd meant him and Seth. "I wanted to make sure she was thoroughly satisfied before I let him have her. Can't be sure he'll get the job done, after all."
Simon struggled to resist rolling his eyes. "And Sparrow let you?" he asked. "I guess you didn't present it quite that way, then, did you?"
Frost's smirk made his skin crawl. "She made a few excuses, sure," he confirmed, and Simon quickly brushed away the thought of Sparrow trying--and failing--to deter his advances, "but I made it worth her while, believe me."
"Couldn't let her go without having her first, could you?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound quite as disgusted as he felt. "You had to make sure he knew you'd fucked her right before?"
Frost couldn't have been less apologetic about it if he'd tried. "Yes," he confirmed, and Simon eyed him warily as he advanced, a bit of swagger in his hips that Simon wasn't quite sure he trusted. "And he's going to know. I sent her in there so thoroughly fucked that he's not going to be able to forget me." There was a dangerous look in Frost's eyes as he drew near, steadily closing the distance between them, but Simon held both his ground and his nonchalance. It was disconcerting, he realized, to know that look was possessiveness. The man couldn't even be jealous properly, utterly willing to give his partner over to whoever she took an interest in and yet somehow still entirely convinced that his was the claim that mattered, even though it was his and his alone that had been forced upon her against her will. "When he fucks her tonight, he's going to know I was the one who got her that wet for him. And when he tries to kiss her--if he decides to get on his knees and bury his face between her legs--he's going to be tasting me."
Simon stared back at the other man, unwilling to let that disturbingly intense look unsettle him. "So... I'm gonna have to wait for you to get it back up, is what you're saying?"
Frost laughed, and Simon flinched as he reached up to touch his fingers to his jawline. Frost was looking at him with a hunger Simon hadn't seen turned in his direction for quite some time, not since those first few weeks of Simon's own captivity, and he was well aware that it wasn't about him at all; this was entirely about Sparrow, and every single ounce of that lust was borne of the disturbing little power game he was playing against Seth. It was just Simon's luck that he'd get caught in the middle.
"No, dear, that's not at all what I'm saying. I don't need to be hard for what we're going to do tonight."
That caught him off guard. Simon quickly schooled his surprised expression into something more skeptical, not at all prepared to believe this was actually going to go in a direction he actually wouldn't mind. "Don't you?"
Simon felt Frost tracing his jawline with his fingertips, and he had the distinct impression of being trapped in the cage of a hungry lion. "Not unless you've got your heart set on getting fucked tonight. If you do, I don't mind... but I was rather hoping you'd want to top."
Somehow, being offered what he wanted--or, more accurately, hearing that Frost wanted it, too--felt like a trap, and there was a small part of him that wondered if perhaps Frost was a bit more interested in Seth than he had let on. It would be just his luck if Sparrow had dropped him to fuck some lunatic, only for Frost to use him as the same man's stand-in. Wonderful.
"Couldn't persuade her new boyfriend to do it, I suppose?" He hoped he wasn't pushing his luck too far. It was always rather hard to tell with Frost.
To his relief, Frost merely seemed amused, and Simon watched uncertainly as he leaned in closer until they are almost near enough to kiss. "No," he admitted, "I couldn't. He's much harder to convince than the rest of you were. Of course, the rest of you didn't have Sparrow protecting you, did you? If she has her way, I'll never lay a hand on him."
"Do you want to, though?"
Look Who's On Top [3/?]
"She'll never forgive you if you try to force him. And, honestly, I doubt you'd survive; the man seems unhinged enough already."
The sharp bark of laughter came as a surprise. "Believe me, Simon, if I decided to try taking what I wanted from him, I wouldn't have either of them in any position to fight back. But since we're sharing him with the rest of the Circle... That idea is out. Any others?"
Simon's stomach roiled as he considered what exactly Frost was telling him. (What would he have done to them?) But he pushed the discomfort aside expertly; war knew he'd had plenty of practice these past few years. "Break them up." If he was giving advice, he supposed, it might as well be honest.
Frost looked amused, no doubt because Simon was, more or less, playing into his game. "She wouldn't forgive me for that, either. Besides, there's no real reason to separate them; not yet, at least. He hasn't tried to hurt her, which is more than a few of his clients can say for themselves, and I'm not such a hypocrite that I'll try to take her lover from her after months of promising that she can fuck whoever she wants."
"And if he does try to hurt her?"
"I've made it abundantly clear that attempting to harm her is a decision he wouldn't live to regret."
Leave it to Frost. "Then I suppose we'll both have to hope he still has his will to live."
For a moment, Frost's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Simon knew he had just offered the other man something he definitely didn't want to hear. Good. "How do you suppose I separate them, then?" he asked, and there was no question of what answer he was fishing for. "He's the first person she's wanted since she's been here."
That was a low blow, and it didn't help that Simon wondered how true it really was; Sparrow had chosen to start a relationship with Seth, but whatever was between herself and Simon, on the other hand, had been entirely instigated by Frost. She had never seemed particularly adverse to him--adverse to the ridiculous thought that she might be taking advantage of him, sure, but not to Simon himself--but perhaps Simon simply didn't know her tells; what was the likelihood, he wondered, that he was just seeing in her what he wanted to see? That he was imagining affection, friendship, even attraction where there was none? He hated to think that he might be the one taking advantage of her.
If there was any blame to be passed out, though, he would put it all squarely on Frost's shoulders.
"I'll take your word for it," he said stiffly. "You're certainly the one who should know the difference, after all, aren't you?"
From the vague amusement on Frost's face, Simon's half-hearted attempt to hurt him did nothing of the sort, but that didn't come as any particular surprise. Simon had long since begun to suspect that when it came to Sparrow, there wasn't anything anyone could say to shake the man's foundation; he thought he was in the right at all times, and nothing short of Sparrow's complete and utter breakdown could convince him that his position in her life wasn't as stable as he had taken it for granted to be.
And even that couldn't make him give this up.
"Simon, I'm serious," Frost went on, his voice frustratingly patient for a man being purposefully antagonized. "If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it. I told you, I'd be more than pleased to redirect her interest in a direction that would benefit me as well as her, but it doesn't appear that's going to happen. She wants him, and since she's turned down every alternative I've proposed…"
"Like who?" Simon demanded, affronted at the thought. What the fuck was going on with Frost these days, he wondered? When had Simon and Nadia stopped being good enough for the two of them, who the hell else was there for Frost to go after, and why the fuck did Simon care in the first place?
"Valter Nikolina," Frost answered, and Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. He should have known. "Felix N--"
Updated Challenges List
Look Who's On Top [4/?]
"Because," Frost said, a hint of something less friendly in his voice now that Simon dared bring up Donahue, "it has to be someone we're both attracted to; someone who's attracted to both of us. Whether it's a man or a woman, I don't care, but Sparrow has made it abundantly clear that she prefers men, so that's what I'm looking for. But above all else, what I need someone who fits. Someone who can assume the role we need him to, someone who won't try to come between us or challenge me or do anything to hurt her."
"Seth Reinhold is not that person."
"No," he admitted, "I don't think he is. But he's what she wants right now, and until someone better steps up to the plate, he's what I intend to give her."
Simon knew exactly what Frost wanted to get out of this; he knew exactly what words Frost wanted to hear him say in response. But Simon wasn't going to offer them, not to Frost and not to anyone. He wasn't going to compromise his freedom; he had a plan, damn it, an actual plan for his future with Nadia, and he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.
Sure, he'd let Sparrow herself come along if that's what she wanted, but Frost was taking things many steps too far. The thought of spending his life with Frost--the thought of spending his life here--was downright horrifying.
"I hope you don't end up regretting that," Simon said finally, feeling defeated. There wasn't anything else he could say.
"I don't think I will," Frost said. "So while she's busy in there fucking her dangerous little friend, I would like to make tonight worth my while. Yours, too, if I can manage it."
Frost had that look on his face now, the familiar, lustful expression that, after three years with the man, Simon had learned to associate with his own arousal and pleasure, and so it was one that he was perhaps a bit ashamed to admit had an immediate effect on him. His pulse quickened as Frost's hands fall to Simon's waist and he tugged him gently but insistently forward.
"What exactly do you want tonight, Frost?" he asked, acutely aware of how close the other man was--and what he was going to be doing with that closeness in just another moment.
"What I want," Frost said, grinning almost mischievously, "is for you to fuck me, Simon. I want to be on my back on that bed with your cock in my ass, and you can be as gentle or cruel about it as you'd like to be. And I want you to make me scream loud enough for the two of them to know exactly what we're doing over here."
"And you're sure you wouldn't rather just head in there and offer them your ass instead?"
Frost chuckled. "I don't think I even trust him enough to fuck him, let alone the other way around. Not yet." Simon glanced down as Frost's hand moved from his hip, coming to rest instead on the towel draped around his hips. He watched Frost loosen it, then let it fall to the floor, and he glanced back up quickly. Frost couldn't have been more obviously aroused. "You, though... You I trust--more or less."
"I'm flattered." Frost's hands were on his pants now, unbuttoning them without so much as hesitating for permission, and then he was insistently tugging off Simon's shirt. "But you're not going to convince me to do anything stupid just by throwing me a bone every now and then. No pun intended."
Frost grinned appreciatively. "I'm not trying to convince you if anything, Simon," he said, the lie as transparent as ever. "I'm trying to get your cock in my mouth."
Simon's breath hitched as Frost dropped to his knees, and he stepped reluctantly out of his pants and shoes before kicking then all into a pile where his shirt had been dropped to the floor. Frost smirked up at him.
"I'd make it worth your while, though, Simon," he said. "I know you know that. You'd have everything you could ever want."
"Except my freedom."
"Except that."
Look Who's On Top [5/?]
Simon let himself relax as Frost pleasured him. It was rare enough that he got this from anyone but Nadia; members of the Circle who were willing to pleasure a victor even as foreplay were few and far between, most of them preferring to have the night's chosen slave work himself (or herself) up on their own, to pleasure himself in front of a captive audience or else to pretend that he needed nothing more to get off than the opportunity to lavish attention on some obscenely rich rapist. Even Frost did this only occasionally; from what he'd been told by Sparrow and Nadia, he seemed to quite enjoying oral when he had a female partner, but if he got any particular enjoyment out of doing this for Simon, he'd certainly never showed it. But Frost was willing to do it, and tonight, Simon was especially grateful for that.
It was a welcome reprieve from the other things he'd been doing the past few days--not to mention a nice alternative to what he'd feared might go down between the two of them while Sparrow was busy with her new beau.
Simon remained entirely passive as Frost licked and sucked at his cock, content to let the man actually work for something for once in his damn life. He was even fighting the urge to reach down and dig his fingers into the other man's ridiculous pale hair; he knew that the moment he had a solid grasp on it, that would've been it. He would've taken control entirely, started fucking into Frost's mouth to chase his orgasm, and as appealing as the idea of using this figurehead of the Circle like a toy, that would've let Frost off the hook. He would've stopped putting any effort into it, and, like Simon had said, he was particularly enjoying the thought of Frost having to work to get him off tonight.
It served the fucker right.
But it wasn't going to last long, he knew. Frost wanted Simon to fuck him--and face-to-face, too, he'd said--and for that, Simon would need to be hard. Sure, his refractory period had been impressively slim ever since the Circle had started doping him with their special cocktail of victor-approved drugs specially designed to build a better sex slave, but he didn't like the thought of what Frost might choose to do with those few minutes before Simon would be able to shut him the hell up the way he wanted.
And so, of course, when he felt his orgasm creeping up on him, his hands finally moved to Frost's head, and he nudged him away. "Stop," he ordered, voice huskier than he wanted to acknowledge, and he was actually a bit surprised when Frost pulled back without any protest. He actually knelt there for a moment, unmoving with his face turned up toward Simon, and there was certainly something about that he liked. In the back of his mind, there was that same dark little voice there always was; a sinister, cruel little piece of his consciousness that reveled in having Frost on his knees and wanted to keep him there, just so that he could abuse him the way Simon himself had been abused.
Sometimes Simon wondered if the rest of them had that same little voice in the back of their minds. Most of the time, though, he simply didn't want to know.
Frost licked his lips, his gaze locked with Simon's. "Are you ready, then?" Frost asked him. "To give me what I want?"
Simon just rolled his eyes. As if he could've said no. "Get on the bed, Frost."
How he managed to stand up with such dignity, Simon didn't know. The man was absurdly comfortable in his own skin. Sure, Simon had never expected him to be bashful or anything of the sort, but even Simon himself wasn't so at ease with doing what Frost had just been doing to him, and Simon was willing to bet he'd had more experience over the past three years than Frost'd had in a lifetime. When Simon stood up from his knees with the taste of another man's cock on his lips, there was nothing dignified about it at all, he knew; spiteful and dismissive and defiantly proud, yes. But never anything approaching dignity.
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.