Simon moaned softly as soft lips and a probing tongue worked their way down his neck. Oh, he loved dreams, especially vivid ones. He had been as celibate and chaste as he had forced Damian to be for the last three years. Tensions had steadily been rising in both for the entirety of the time. In the last couple months, as Daman’s eighteenth birthday grew closer, those tensions had spiked uncontrollably. And Simon’s only comfort had been his hand. And dreams.

"That feels nice," he mumbled, hoping to encourage the phantom lips to move lower.

"Doesn’t it though?"

Simon jumped, falling off the bed. "For fuck’s sake, Damian!"

Damian peeked over the side of the bed at Simon and smirked, looking impish. "What?"

"Quit pushing this!"

Damian pouted. "Aw, come on. I’m eighteen tomorrow. You’re wasting my best years. Boys peak sexually at eighteen."

Simon ran a hand through his hair and glared. "I will not be wasting your best year though," he pointed out, dragging himself off the ground.

Damian perked up. "No, you won't be," he agreed. "I’m going to keep you real busy."

Heat rushed to Simon’s groin at the drawl. He pulled the blankets up with him as he stood but Damian yanked them down and stared pointedly at Simon’s tented boxers. "Are you sure you don’t want any help with that?"

Simon pulled the sheets back up. "Yes. Now go jack off in the shower or something."

Damian rolled his eyes and simply reached a hand down his pants.

Simon flushed and quickly escaped to the restroom before he could make a fool of himself.

Safely inside, he took his own advice and was quickly finished. He sighed and leaned against the wall, finally allowing himself to think about what was going to happen the next day.

There was no doubt it was going to happen. Simon had been in the most intense relationship he had ever been in the last three years. The fact that it was so passionate without sex or any kind of real physical contact was amazing. What it would be like with the sex… Anticipation and anxiety shivered up his spine in almost equal measure.

It would either be mind-blowingly wonderful or mind-blowingly awful. They were obviously attracted to each other and Simon wasn’t too modest to admit he was good at sex, but that was three years ago. What if he had lost his touch? Or if they were completely incompatible in bed.

That had just happened to Jake the year before. He had finally gotten Coach Williamson to admit bisexual tendencies and gotten him in bed just to find out that while it was fun, it was not something either wanted a regular dose of. What if that happened to Damian and him? Simon had avoided talking to Damian about any kind of preferences in bed. He knew Damian was a snuggler during the day, but what if he wasn’t at night? That was important to Simon. He liked holding his partners after sex. And what if Damian was into really kinky stuff that Simon wanted no part of? Or what if Damian didn’t like Simon’s occasional roughness? Simon was usually very gentle, but occasionally, he got a little rough. And he liked being able to be a little rough.

There were so many things that could go wrong…

"Simon, you realize it’s been an hour? I made pancakes and they’re going to get cold soon!"

"Coming dear," Simon mocked, but he couldn’t help smiling. Damian had proven a surprising knack for cooking, baking, and anything else that involved food. He stepped out of the shower and towel dried off quickly before opening the door.

Damian smirked at him from the bed. "You should take the towel off."

"You should- Hell, just go away and let me get dressed," Simon grumbled.

Damian grinned and slipped off the bed, looking scrumptious in jeans and nothing else. "Just hurry up. I won’t let you eat cold pancakes."

"I’d rather eat you anyways."

Damian smirked and kissed Simon’s lips gently. "And yet you still won’t do anything until tomorrow. You tease you." He ambled out of the room.

Simon watched him go, sighing as the door swung shut. The next- he checked the clock- fourteen hours were going to be hell. On both of them.

--

Damian stared at the clock, wishing it would hurry up, and curled closer to Simon. They were on the couch, watching a movie. Damian wasn’t paying attention to it. He didn’t even know what it was about. He wondered if Simon would notice if he changed all of them, turned them hours ahead. He glanced up at the man in question and caught him glancing at the clock. Probably. And he would, of course, object, even though he wanted this as badly as Damian did. Or said he did at least.

Personally, Damian didn’t think it was possible. He had been constantly horny for the last three years. There was no relief offered, no distraction that had lasted long. Oh, he had enjoyed the time no doubt; he adored Simon and the man spoiled him rotten. But he was still horny and seemed to have a perpetual hard on.

He growled softly, under hiss breath, and turned his attention back to the clock, ignoring Simon’s questioning look. As if he didn’t know what Damian was so worked up over. Three hours, twenty-nine minutes, and four- no, three- seconds.

--

Simon glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-nine. Damian was tense against his chest. He had made an exception for the second time since Damian had moved in and let the teen sleep in his bed. The first was when Damian had a bad flu and had been up hurling all night. They hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. It looked like this night would follow form although for a very, very different reason. He had insisted they go to bed and try to sleep at eleven. The hour had been torture to his nerves. Damian had rubbed against him in a very purposeful way more than once and had teased just a little both verbally and physically. Simon was painfully hard from it.

The numbers changed. 12:00