Work Text:
The first couple months in prison hadn’t been that bad. It was a lot of getting used to everything which helped to preoccupy Simon’s mind. Didn’t have much space in his brain to think when he was constantly watching his back. But once he understood the dynamics, the routines, the timing of shit, he had time for his mind to wander. Which is really what the punishment was, wasn’t it? Being alone with his thoughts, with little distractions, a fucking hierarchy Animal Planet would pay to research, and the near constant threat of finding himself in situations he wished he hadn’t.
But the biggest punishment of them all was being away from Patty. He’d keep his record clean for the rest of his life, and not because he was reformed or some stupid shit. But because he couldn’t stand to be away from her. Couldn’t deal with what it was doing to him, both mentally and physically. He had casually mentioned it in passing to his brother on a phone call a couple months in, and Danny had used it as bait to encourage him to stay the fuck out of trouble. But Simon’s problem wasn’t always that he found the trouble, trouble usually ended up finding him. And he knew he had to be fucking careful with that luck here in this cage. Didn’t want to add any extra time to his sentence. If anything, he was hoping he’d be able to cut down on his time.
Simon had gone as far as engaging with all their volunteer programs, as his counselor had suggested, to help his case. Could shorten it a couple days, weeks, or months. It could have taken an extra hour off his sentence, and he’d have done it to see Patty all that sooner. He wouldn’t tell her that though. Didn’t want to come off as desperate or pathetic, and it fucking embarrassed him to shit. Bad enough he had her waiting for him. He tried not to think about the world passing by as he scribbled lyrics into his notebook in his cell.
Simon hadn’t just used the notebooks Patty had sent him for music-related work and letters to her. He had gotten into the swing of things by the six-month mark, found his place, didn’t have to look over his shoulder every five fucking seconds. Was able to bring his senses down enough to where he spent more and more time alone with the thoughts in his head. Since he had Patty’s Polaroid now, he had been left with few pictures that he had managed to sneak in here. They had been pulled at random from an old, creased letter stuffed in his backpack, but he was grateful to have any visual reminders of her.
Missed the fuck out of her if he was being honest with himself. Hated to admit how much she got him through his days: the short ones and the agonizingly long ones too. It was her letters that he’d reread over and over–and not just the sexy ones where she would describe to him what she thought about when she had her fingers shoved hastily in her panties. He’d also reread the ones where she worked out song lyrics with him; the ones where she would take the time to respond thoughtfully to a question he had forgotten he asked in his previous message to her; the ones where she described her week, or rehearsal, or how much she missed his touch; the ones where she daydreamed about the future, even if it scared the fucking shit out of him. The commitment of the whole thing, to call her his girlfriend, had been a leap in itself. To even consider having a future with someone else made him feel too many things at once, and he hated that he had the time to work through and analyze each of them. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to. He had his principles to him, and he had promised himself to not let anyone or anything compromise them. But as the days kept turning, he felt that foundation weakening every time he fucking jerked off to the idea of her. Had him completely wrapped around her fucking finger, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it either.
Simon would call Patty too, weekly when he could, but more often monthly. He longed for the days that the booths were clear of other inmates, something that they had only gotten lucky with twice, where he could listen to her touch herself to his voice, his words. “What else, Simon?” He could hear her breathy words gasp into the shitty speaker as he angled his waist away from the entrance to the room. She had let out a particularly desperate moan when he had described teasing his tongue along her clit that fueled Simon’s spank bank for months to come.
No one had ever moaned his name the way Patty had, as if her life fucking depended on it, and he’d do anything she asked if it meant he could listen to it for the rest of his life. To be fair, most of the people he had fucked were either nameless one night stands or girls he had forged some sort of agreement with that he’d fuck ‘em for a free place to stay or in exchange for whatever he had in his backpack at the given moment. But Patty had turned his entire concept of having a relationship with someone on its head. He had never cared to have anyone this consistent in his life other than maybe his brother, Donnie, and Albert. Had countless therapists tell him he was incapable of maintaining a “normal and healthy relationship” to which most of the people in his life agreed. He wouldn’t know what one would look like either, but he knew that there was something about him and Patty that felt right together.
Simon hadn’t gone this long without a fuck since he had lost his virginity, and he tried to contain himself, but he even found his dilemma manifesting into his lyrics and writing. He wrote scenes about the first time he had kissed her, contorting them into porn-like graphics in his head of him bending her over the table in front of everyone and fucking her til they both collapsed. But he found himself often replaying the first and only time they had fucked on a near daily basis. He thought about it so much, he felt compelled to write it down, as if he was about to forget it or some shit. As if it was going to get it out of his head to where he could form a coherent thought.
After sporadic periods of writing over several months, he found himself rereading the most true-to-reality memoir he had written about their first time. Simon committed every fucking detail to memory too. He described the feeling of her clothed cunt grinding frantically on his trapped cock. He detailed the rush he had gotten thinking about fucking the girl who had been teasing him relentlessly for two years in a row. It had made his heart stutter and his breathing falter in a way he had never felt before when she had kissed him in response to his big reveal.
Simon had imagined a million different versions of who was behind the camera any time he let his mind wander to curiosity before he met Patty. He envisioned the sleazy, annoying groupies and prayed it wasn’t one that had made her turn ‘round every punk band in the scene. He would sometimes pick girls out of the crowd of his shows, trying to see if maybe there was any semblance of a detail he could recognize and find her. But there was also a part of him that was so turned on by the mystery of it all, that he eventually stopped looking. Didn’t want to be disappointed with what he found, if he ever did, and decided to enjoy what he got. And he did for a while. When he had finally put the pieces together that it was Patty all along, he was dumbfounded: she wasn’t anything like he had envisioned, didn’t even come close. He was initially put off, the reaction he thought he would have, but he couldn’t help but smile at her questions, or the way she let her eyes bathe over him, or the way she hummed mindlessly when she was doing something she enjoyed, or the way she enjoyed life like no one was watching. The soft, girly shit he saw at first he realized were the most punk things about her. And when he finally had her in his bed, he couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for him. Simon hadn’t captured this information in his memoir, didn’t see the need to really. He really had just wanted to capture her.
He wrote about his fingers pushing up and under her shirt as her tongue slid along his in desperation. Patty humped back into Simon’s thrusts through their clothes, and Simon allowed his hands to roam over her ass, up her back, and around to her tits. Patty had pressed into his fingers too when they had finally found the soft give of her flesh. It had set a fire in him how eager she was to his touch. He had about ripped her shirt off at her admission, and he remembered when he reached to unclasp her bra clumsily that she had stopped him to tug his shirt off too. Said something about being fair that he wished he would have paid more attention to. Couldn’t remember her exact wording when he tried to write it down. But he did remember the tone and cadence in which it was said. Could replay it in his head when the room was quiet enough.
She had traced over his muscles and his bruises and his scars when he had tugged off his shirt. Placed little kisses around the bruises those stupid fucking track dipshits had given him before she let him unveil her tits. She had asked him to violate her, and he took it out on her tits at first. Licking and nibbling on the white, creamy skin, forming a hickey on the top of her left breast before he finally flicked his tongue against her nipple. He remembered how she moaned in response too, and he sucked her in harder as he massaged her other tit. Remember how she’d ground her pussy against his aching cock. Simon loved that she pressed herself closer to his mouth, to his dick. Loved that she didn’t hold back, wasn’t shy or trying to pretend she was something she wasn’t. Patty was only focusing on what he was doing to her, and it sent him into a fury as he suckled deeper on her mound. He recalled getting frustrated with the ski mask as he marked wet sloppy kisses all over her chest. “Simon,” she had gasped when he dragged his teeth across her nipple, “I need you to touch me.” She had said it matter of factly too, remembered how he rutted against her instinctively at her words. He pulled back from her tit and hastily shoved his fingers into the front of her pants, wanted to see just how worked up he was getting her. He could still hear how she gasped as he trailed his fingers past her clit, tapping lightly, and into her soaked hole, pressing his middle finger in slowly. Patty had moaned his name so lightly too that he wished it was his dick inside of her instead of his finger. He had understood her request now: she was wet enough for him to easily slip another finger into her, he remembered how she coated his fingers, remembered how her walls pulsed around him. As he picked up his speed, he remembered how she squirmed on top of him then, how flushed her cheeks were, the smile painted on her lips, and her fingers gripping onto him for dear life.
“More,” he heard her gasping, jaw slack. He recalled thinking he needed to get her naked, said something like “take it off” to her, and he detailed how she whined when he pulled his fingers from her. He sucked on his fingers too, making sure he met her eye as he lapped it up. She smiled mischievously at him as she pulled her skirt and tights off. He could still remember the sweet tang to her, could taste it if he focused hard enough. He regretted he didn’t press his tongue into her that day, but he thought there would be another chance. And he still had one, he supposed. But not for a while.
Patty had let out a small little smile when Simon finally pulled his aching dick from his boxers. Her cheeks reddened, and she looked at him with this wild smile. Simon remembered fumbling with a condom, taking note of her eyes blown back. “Wow,” she had said, and he remembered feeling hot all over, deciding to shake his head and laugh at her comment. Simon knew he was hot shit, he saw the way women looked at him, and he loved it. But Patty was different, and he couldn’t quite figure her out.
“You ever done this before?” Simon had been careful how to ask as he reached to pull her back on top of him. He had never gotten a straight answer out of her, didn’t want her to clam up again. But he had a pretty good idea of what her answer was going to be anyway.
He remembered how fucking hot she looked, shaking her head and biting her lip bashfully at him. “Will you show me?” She asked, and Simon could still hear it ringing in his head. How could the girl that had been taunting his dick be a virgin on top of everything else? Simon remembered the brief inner turmoil he had as he pressed their bodies against each other. He had wanted to ravage her, the way she had asked, but he had grown a fondness of Patty over the past couple days. He didn’t want to hurt her, felt a weird sense of protection over her; and he remembered having to ignore the way his heart thumped as he brought his unsteady hands to her hips.
He reached under her to grab his dick, remembered rubbing it up along her folds, hearing her groan desperately and feeling her writhe above him. Patty had brought her lips to his then as he pressed the tip of his head into her tight hole, humming into his mouth at the pressure.
Simon wasn’t really a fan of kissing during sex. Sure, it was fun in foreplay, but he found that girls got attached if he had his tongue and his dick in them at the same time. But he welcomed it, felt like it was the least he could do to make her first time good. She was hungry and passionate, and he wanted to thrust his dick into her then, but he stopped himself, loosening the grip his hands had on her hips. He hadn’t realized how hard his grip had been on her.
Simon painfully remembered how he used the excuse of the mask to break the kiss and take it off in one go. Remembered how she looked when he guided her further down his cock, biting her lip before letting out a raunchy moan. He remembered how she looked him in the eye before allowing herself to sit all the way down on his cock. Simon was also embarrased to recall how he couldn’t help but groan loudly as he watched her face react to him all the way inside of her, felt her pussy squeeze so tightly against him. He remembered adjusting her on top of him, getting his dick as deep inside of her as he could. He remembered the lazy smile that had spread across his face as she hummed and gently rocked back and forth, her hands rubbing up and down his torso. She was careful, even then, to avoid the heavy purple bruise that had blossomed on his ribcage.
“You okay?” He had wanted to check on her before he did anything else, although he remembered his dick hating him for it. She was so wet and hot and the way she was moving against him was just enough to tease him. He wished he could have taken a picture of how she bit her lip and nodded at him, her lips pulling into a smile. He had to have muttered something under his breath in response to it, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Probably “fuck” if he had to guess. “Go ahead,” he urged as he moved his hands to push her hips up and down against him. He had wanted her to set the tone, didn’t want to push her past anything she didn’t want to do. He hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity in so long, and Patty looked at him in ways no one else had before. Made him fucking melt which he might as well admit if he was confessing everything.
She started off in short, quick up and down movements before switching to slow, deep strokes that had Simon thrusting back up into her. He let her experiment and see what felt good for her, although he wanted to grip her hips and fuck her senseless. Wasn’t sure they wouldn’t end up there if he wasn’t careful.
She had moaned his name too, in ways that, sure, maybe he had heard before, but not in quite the desperate, demanding tone Patty had. The way she hung her head, smiling as she looked between them to watch as Simon had found a rhythm that was getting them both close fast. He had to hold himself back though. He wanted to make sure she came before he did anything else. So he moved a hand from her hip to snake a couple fingers to find her clit. Simon would give anything now to hear how she moaned desperately then. “Please, that feels so good, Simon,” she had whined, and he had to focus everything in his body to not cum right there. Her pussy was squeezing and clenching around him so deliciously, and she was so wet they could both hear the audible suction of her pussy against his cock.
He said something back to her, knew it was something desperate like, “fuck, I’m so fucking close.” Simon felt her thighs squeeze against him at whatever he had groaned out, sucking in a deep breath as she had began to pant at his increased speed on her clit. He remembered how hard he tried to choke back a groan when she brought one of her hands to interlace with his fingers on her hip. He looked up at her, hair falling in front of her face and her lips parted, remembered he couldn’t hide the look of want and need on his face either. “Simon,” she gasped breathily, and he felt her walls start to spasm against him. “Cum for me. I’ve got you,” he had said to her, wanting to coax it out of her. He was quickly losing the strength to hold his own orgasm back.
He’ll never forget the way she collapsed against him, pressing her lips against his as she came around his aching cock. He hated to admit that that was what finally sent him over the edge. He told himself it was just the feeling of her tight, wet pussy cumming around his dick, and that he was close anyway. Which did play a big part of course, but it was the intimacy he was caught off guard by. And he came so fucking hard in her, remembered wrapping his arms around her body as he helplessly rutted up into her. He remembered the way her skin felt under his fingertips and the way she giggled into his ear and the way he sighed into her neck.
When he had confronted her about sex while shooting hoops the day prior, he had went into it thinking that his long-lived fantasy of Polaroid girl was going to fall flat, the way he had half expected it to go. The reason why he never wanted to find out. But this. This was just something else. He couldn’t necessarily say it was the best sex he had ever had, in terms of the crazy shit he had done in the past. But he didn’t write it off either. Felt his heart racing in a way it usually didn’t, and he had felt his cock throb in ways it didn’t usually either.
“Fuck, Patty,” he remembered saying when he finally came back from it. She sighed contently and sat up, slowly rolling to snuggle his side. And she laughed, giggled even, and it made Simon laugh too. Because how the fuck was it that good.
“Was that good for you?” He asked, turning to light a cigarette. He reflected how he did that to avoid looking her head on, just in case he had disappointed her or some shit. Knew at that point she had built up this fantasy about him in her head too, and part of him wanted to live up to it too. The way she had definitely lived up to his.
He remembered how she smiled so widely at him, throwing her head back and rubbing her hand up his chest. “Yes, thank you, Simon.” Thank you Simon?, he remembered thinking to himself, fuck me. He even wrote that part down. He really didn’t want to forget how she made him feel that day. He was scared that taking her virginity would make her get too attached to him, but every time Simon reread it, he realized it happened the other way around.