"Maybe. But not tonight," Simon growled, hand in Judas' hair to tug back his chin. He left bruises somewhat accidentally. Judas was pale and fair and the slightest amount of pressure outlined where he used his teeth and tongue.

By the time Peter got himself home, Simon and Judas were leaving the club and heading back to Simon's place. They'd arrive around the time Peter was packing, throwing things into a bag without paying too much attention to what he was doing. Simon lifted Judas onto the granite countertop of the massive kitchen breakfast bar, good China in glass cabinets reflecting the light all around them, lips hungry for the ginger's.

He'd have his hand on bare skin when Peter left the house, not knowing he'd caused so much hurt. Right now, making Judas come as many times as possible was the only thing on Simon's mind. He planned on the first time being right here. Clue style: Simon, in the kitchen, with his mouth.