Work Text:
Simon supposed he could understand why humans chose to build their society around labor in exchange for goods and services. On Eden, work wasn’t a demand or a force, it was a way of life. Or a way to ensure you stayed alive, so to speak. If you couldn’t serve your fellow humans, if there was no measurable benefit to keeping you around, then why waste the extra resources? Not that there ever were any extras to begin with.
You either live to serve, or you don’t live at all. Simon was prepared to give up everything he was in order to simply exist. It’s the only good thing he’d say the iron lung did for him, in the end. Not drown him, trap him in an ocean, trick him into hallucinating the voices of dead people, but give him purpose, at the very least, to keep going through it.
The only other good thing he could associate with that ancient husk of metal was the moment he was cut out of it. When light cascaded in through the gap and he swore he saw an angel.
The moment was a lot more majestic and ethereal in retrospect, but in practice, not so much. As that same “angel” had been perched at his desk for hours, insisting that he had to get his work done before he could sacrifice precious time for anything else.
Again, Simon supposed he could understand it. The human tendency to endlessly work, work, work until there’s nothing left of you, so long as you’re left with a sense of purpose.
The only thing Simon is left with, however, is a deep sense of discontentment as Ryland refuses to even look up from his laptop.
Simon admired Ryland’s stubbornness. After all, he believes it to be the one reason that his angel never gave up on him in those early months. His stubbornness, accompanied closely by a seemingly endless amount of patience.
“I know, I know, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
Patience that Simon did not have.
“That’s what you said three hours ago.”
“Yeah, well, this time I mean it.”
“You wanna know what else you said three hours ago?”
Ryland frowned, refusing to look up from his laptop. He seemed to be multitasking, typing profusely while also maintaining pace with the conversation.
Simon wouldn’t admit how frustrating it felt in the moment, being treated like an afterthought.
“Ry, I’m serious.”
“Hey serious, I’m Ryland.”
“Oh don’t go playing your stupid dad joke tricks with me— You’ve been at it all day.”
“Maybe for good reason.” All of Ryland’s responses felt half-assed, in a way that made Simon’s skin itch along his forearms.
“What reason? Cuz last time I checked, or no, actually you told me that you don’t even have to do all of this. It’s just Rocky and their science pals humoring you.”
“Well humor me, please.”
“For three more hours?”
“If you insist.” He shrugged and looked back down at his screen.
Ohh, that little—
This was the trouble, trying to work around Ryland’s walls when he was stuffed up inside of whatever work study he was engrossed in. Ryland could be really fucking stubborn when he wanted to be. He had sat through all of Simon’s tricks— The puppy eyes, the half-hearted threats, even the head scratches when he came around to wrap his arms around Grace’s chest from behind his office chair.
Where normally, Ryland would have melted into the touch and given up in record time (the head scratches were his secret weapon, his scientist was touch starved beyond belief and yes, he’d taken full advantage of it, thank you very much), instead, Ryland had caught on to what he was doing and shrugged him off.
SHRUGGED. HIM. OFF.
One could assume Ryland had left his brain up there in the cosmos and simply come down to Erid without it. Simon genuinely considered just leaving him there to pass out at his desk. He’d inevitably wake up the next day complaining about how his back ached just to be at the trivial liberty to tease him with a well-deserved “I told you so”.
Simon resisted the urge to pick Ryland up from his office chair, hoist him over his shoulder, and marvel in the flushed look on his face when—
Oh.
…
Oh.
Hail Mary indeed, He thought to himself as he left his previous perch of leaning against the doorframe. He made his way over to Ryland’s desk and folded his arms on top of the hardwood, reaching a kneeling position on the floor.
Ryland finally looked up as he felt his mate’s gaze bore into him. Simon took one look at his angel’s face up close, the not-so-subtle droops under his eyelids, and wondered why in the world his angel would do this to himself.
On the day of their wedding, a small ceremony— a beach wedding held on Erid’s shores inside the dome, Simon swore to himself that if anyone were to dare harm Grace, there'd be hell to pay.
It’s an entirely different kind of promise, however, when said antagonist is his angel himself. An entirely different kind of beast.
Ryland sighed and returned to his work with an unamused jab.
“I know you’re trying the puppy eyes again, but it’s not gonna work. Just let me focus, please.”
The plea that ran from his lips almost made Simon reconsider, but then again…
Nah.
“What exactly are you working on?”
“I’m checking the infrared frequencies of the astrophage in the petrova line in reference to the temperature data of Erid’s sun to make sure the Taumoeba is behaving as we predicted. They just sent the sample up a few weeks ago, and the numbers seem to be improving, but if anything goes wrong, we’ll be there to catch it.”
“Wow. That seems like something that’d take a lot of focus, huh?”
“Yes.” Ryland said, simply. Then, he slowly looked up from his computer screen, eyeing Simon with suspicion.
“Just curious.” Simon supplied with a shrug.
Ryland found himself slowly ebbing towards his computer again, running numbers and re-running the same numbers again, just to be sure. He spared Simon a few strange glances, before returning to his task. Simon was just trying to guilt him.
He’d never even noticed when Simon had disappeared from the front of his desk.
See, Ryland’s desk was specially made. Since Simon’s trinket had been taken apart and the seed extracted from it, that single seed had sprouted a forest, and therefore a desk made of real wood instead of some clunky metal from spare parts of the Hail Mary. It had two drawers on either side of Ryland’s chair, with a gap for leg room in the middle.
A gap that Ryland had forgotten about, but Simon certainly hadn’t.
The scientist only remembered its presence when he felt an intentional hand brush against the inside of his thigh. He darn-near yelped in surprise.
“Simon!” He jumped, “When did you— even—”
“Ah-ah-ah, you’ve got work to do, remember?”
“But— You—”
Simon leaned his elbow against the chair and leaned into his palm— courtesy of the Eridian engineers who built him the prosthetic— while he carefully guided Ryland’s legs apart with his other hand to give him room.
“What does it matter? I’m comfortable down here. You need to focus, don’t you, angel?”
Ryland’s cheeks had already flushed a subtle shade of rose, and an appalled chuckle greeted Simon back as the scientist finally caught on to what the other had been scheming.
“You said it wouldn’t work, right? Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Simon’s rich gaze waited, those big brown eyes doting upon his form, scanning him up and down with a slight impatience. Yet, the hand on Ryland’s inner thigh remained perfectly still.
Oh, those eyes, he could drown in them.
Ryland pressed down on such thoughts for now. If Simon wanted to play games, so be it. He still had to finish his work.
Ryland turned back to his computer, completely disregarding the man hovering over his pants. He tried to ignore the way he could practically feel the grin on Simon’s face.
Simon lifted his head from his palm and traveled back down, a new goal in mind. If Ryland could be stubborn, then so could he.
If Ryland was going to be difficult, then Simon was going to do everything in his power to make this impossible.
Ryland pretended his nerves didn’t jump when the hand near his crotch started to move. He pretended the nerves didn’t start dancing when a second hand joined the first.
“Can you focus when I do this?”
Simon’s voice had reached a low rumble, the one he knew Ryland fancied during their… ahem… private time. Another thing Ryland loved, Simon’s hands. Simon had always had rather large hands, a mechanic’s hands; Scars littered them like stars in a night sky. The texture alone was often enough to—
THE POINT WAS: Simon was clearly doing this on purpose, and Ryland refused to let him have it.
But Simon, in equal measure, ensured on making such a refusal very difficult as those broad, mechanical hands of his made their merry way along nearly every surface of Ryland’s lower half. Slowly, very slowly, they mirrored each other on either side of his thighs, his knees, his hips, all through the barrier of his clothing.
Ryland wondered if Simon’s lack of urgency had something to do with this “experiment” of his. Emitting their toxic touch through his pants while simultaneously trailing every part of him that wasn’t the part demanding attention.
He had to work. Focus. It’s just a—
A distraction as Ryland felt his breath stutter on a particularly close brush of contact. He could feel Simon’s gaze on him, but refused to look down. He knew he’d already flushed a deep red at this point, he could feel the heat climbing up his cheeks and slowly down… somewhere else.
This was ridiculous, he wasn’t even doing anything. Simon was kneading at the soft skin of his inner thigh through the fabric of his pant leg, looking up at him through those half-lidded orbs, he wasn’t even—
Oh. Oh, that little sneak. That’s exactly what he’s doing, isn’t it? He’s being patient.
“Focus, Ryland. Work, remember?” Simon grinned at him, that low trill in the back of his throat rumbling through the fabric and traveling straight to the scientist’s crotch.
Ryland refuses to look down. He lasers in on the computer screen ahead of him, but in all reality, every new sensation from down below makes him restart whatever sentence he’d been reading. Resisting the urge to make any noise is more taxing than he’d like to admit, once he’s had to restart a sentence from the beginning for the third time in a row. He’d find himself growing frustrated if there wasn’t a tiny irrational voice in the back of his head wondering how long it’s been since their last time.
Simon continues to caress him with such focus that Ryland briefly wonders if he’s stolen it from him.
Only briefly though, because he couldn’t bite his tongue at the gasp that left him as Simon’s fingers delicately brushed against his… distraction.
All at once, Simon’s movements halted. Finally, Ryland looked down.
Simon’s hands found their way up to his waist, big hands that stroked the outline of Ryland’s abs through the cloth of his shirt. He didn’t even care to remember which one of his stupid science puns was on it as Simon captivated him just by staring.
Ryland grew up as the youngest of three brothers in an already-disfunctional household, so what if he didn’t get a ton of attention growing up?
But Simon looked at him, really looked at him in a way that he felt seen like no other creature in the universe could ever do. Ryland couldn’t fathom looking anywhere else but those big brown eyes that glistened in the lamplight. Especially now. Simon’s gaze lingered upon every inch of him like he was a treasure, like something priceless. But mainly…
Simon gazed at him like he wanted nothing more than to devour him, and oh boy, that thought went straight to his dick.
“Simon—”
“Focus on work.” Simon interrupted, “Can’t disappoint all those Eridian scientists, right?”
“But—”
“Focus. Pretend I’m not even here.”
Simon smiled at him in a way that would have been welcoming, had it not been for the flame in his tone that flickered with hunger and the carefully-treading hands slowly branching down to unbutton his pants. For a moment, he seemed to struggle, and Ryland reached down to help, but Simon grabbed his wrist to stop him, looking him dead in the eye.
Ryland swallowed his anticipation as he retracted his hand and faced the laptop again, doing as Simon instructed.
The other man slowly worked the scientist’s pants down to the floor, his phantom touches lingering every step of the way. Ryland tried to ignore the brush of cold air as he felt his "distraction" pop out from behind the barrier of his boxers.
Ryland swallowed again, as for a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a sharp gasp and a moan erupted from his throat as Simon literally wrapped his mouth around the head of Ryland’s cock without any warning— What the frick—
The sensations danced around his pelvis as he felt the convict’s tongue trail and twist around the head experimentally, while his skilled hands kneaded and massaged his thighs, those textured scars grazing against his skin and already beginning to drive him crazy. A groan ripped free from Ryland’s throat, when—
All at once, Simon stopped. He pulled off of Ryland’s cock and frowned when a pathetic whimper came in response.
“You need to get your work done, right?” Simon asked, cheekily. His fingers slowly traced up and down the delicate skin, making Ryland twitch. “Then focus. Can you concentrate for me, angel? Can you be good for me?”
Ryland looked down at Simon as if his very soul was being strangled.
Urgently, he nodded. “Mhm.”
“Words, Ryland.”
“Yes— yes, I can be good. I wanna be good. Please.”
“There’s my good boy.”
Ryland’s cock twitched at the praise. Simon grinned as he rose to Ryland’s level, just high enough to connect their lips in a kiss.
It was then that Ryland realized just how badly they both needed this— Ryland had been teaching his classes, grading homework, working on diagnostics for Erid’s sun, checking the dome settings, going with Rocky to a conference and an interview for being the first alien lifeform on their planet—
Neither of them had realized how long it’s been since they last had sex.
Granted, they weren’t so desperate to go at it like bunny rabbits every time they saw each other, they’d had their fill of fucking like sex-drunk teenagers during their honeymoon. But still, Grace has been busy. And when he’s not busy, he’s tired.
As the kiss grew deeper, tongues danced, hands wandered— Ryland’s hands found Simon’s shoulders before they came up to cup his cheeks. Simon’s hands were grounded resolutely on Ryland’s waist, squeezing every now and then.
With the desire burning in their bones, it sprouted an urgency. One that guided gasps, groans, and whimpers out of their mouths. One that guided Ryland’s lips across Simon’s jawline and led kisses along his neck, leading down and then back up as he nipped at the sweet spot below Simon’s ear. Simon groaned and grabbed a fistful of Ryland’s hair, pulling him back for another messy lock of their lips.
He disconnected from it quickly, however, and made his way back down to the area that needed the most attention.
“Remember, angel, focus. You wanna be good for me?”
Ryland could barely manage an “mhm” before Simon slowly guided his angel’s cock into the warm, wet, perfect sensation of his mouth. Ryland panted like a dog in the hot sun, a gorgeous, filthy sound coming out of his throat.
“Simon—”
The man suddenly stopped in place, mouth still wrapped around him, but not moving down any further.
Focus. Right.
Holy—
Ryland could barely breathe, let alone concentrate as soon as Simon started moving. His tongue dragged up and down the underside before Simon dragged his lips up and down, up and down, over and over and over— And Ryland’s mind quickly began to melt into mush.
The friction became too much as his angel tried to buck his hips forward, to which Simon looked up at him with those burning eyes and locked his hands around Ryland’s hips, holding him still.
Simon looked up at his angel, teary-eyed and beautiful and perfect, and thought that if there was a God, he needed to thank them.
Breathy whimpers came up from Ryland’s throat like a sinner’s long-lost prayer, and Simon ate them all up like a man starved.
God, Ryland was a sin he wanted to commit for the rest of his life.
“Please—”
All at once, Simon pulled away, his voice a bit hoarse.
“I told you to focus on—”
“Can’t.” Ryland panted, cupping Simon’s face. “Only you.”
Simon rose up, their faces mere inches apart.
“Only me, huh?”
“Only you.” Ryland echoed, staring endlessly at his lips. “Please.”
Well, who was he to resist a gift from God?
Simon eagerly mashed their mouths together, running one hand through Ryland’s golden hair and stroking him with the other. Ryland groaned into his lips, the vibrations driving him crazy— A primal want simmered in the back of Simon’s mind, a want to be closer, a want for any sensation he could get his greedy hands on. Wanting to drive his angel to the brink of insanity, to make him squirm and writhe…
Wanting to make it worse.
Then suddenly, the front door echoed three distinct knocks. They both froze.
“Grace!” The house translated Rocky’s voice from outside.
“Shoot, he must be back from his— Wait, Simon— Simon— What are you doing—”
Simon quickly retreated back to his hidden spot under the desk, pulling the wood cover over the front of the gap so he couldn’t be seen. Grace reached for his pants, but Simon took him by the wrists and shook his head.
“Like I’m not even here, right?”
“Simon, don’t you dare—”
Grace bit back a moan as Simon sunk back down on him with a filthy, wet noise. Grace grabbed onto Simon’s black locks, trying to get him to listen—
The front door was forced open based on the loud KER-PLUNK noise that came from outside the room. Even worse, the door to the office was wide open, nothing could—
“Grace! Why bother installing door if not answer?”
Grace bites the inside of his lip and pulls on Simon’s hair, locking his grip as an attempt to ground himself.
“Sorry bud, just been— Uhn— Really busy.”
Thank God for the wood cover, or else Rocky would be able to see the man currently sucking his dick, full front and center.
“Busy busy busy. Humans weird.” Rocky paused when Grace suddenly braced himself against the desk as Simon began to suck. “...Grace okay, question?”
“Mhm, nothing— Guh— Nothing wrong over—” A wobbly exhale, “Hh— here. All just p-peachy.”
“Why is Simon friend under desk, question?”
What?
Oh. Oh my God, Rocky doesn’t see like humans do, he has literally known this entire time— He has heard Simon under the desk actively sucking him off— Oh my God—
“Rocky come back later.” He leaves the doorframe, and equally leaves Grace with the biggest, most crushing sense of embarrassment he’d ever felt in his life.
“Rock—”
“Use protection, statement!”
The door shuts behind him, and Simon dislodges himself, grinning.
“Oh my God.”
Simon laughs.
“Oh my God I’m so stupid.”
He laughs some more.
“Oh, would you stop th—”
He leans in and shuts Ryland’s spiral off right there with a long, tender connection of their lips. When Simon pulls away, they’re both out of breath, but Ryland frowns as Simon strokes the stubble on his cheek.
“You couldn’t have just waited?”
“You couldn’t have just taken a break?”
“No, I had to finish my work.”
“Funny, I kept telling you to do that, but all you could do was moan my name.” Simon grinned as Ryland flushed an embarrassing shade of red. “Sounds like some things were more important.”
“You are impossib—”
Ryland’s descriptor is cut off by another kiss. All at once, the fire in their stomachs reignited and the flurry of passion returned in full force.
Ryland would apologize to Rocky later.
He pants against the kiss, his hands roaming Simon’s torso. “I was close too, you jerk.”
Simon chuckled, a low sound, like the rumble of an earthquake, but sexier.
“Don’t worry, Ry, we’ll have plenty of time for that.”
“Oh will we now?” He said, snarkily, as he suddenly lifted Simon up onto the desk and locked him into another kiss. He quickly disconnected from it, already fumbling with Simon’s belt. “You wanna focus for me now? You wanna try to focus with my mouth around you?” Simon’s cock springs free and the convict’s breath stutters.
“Fuck, angel—”
Ryland is already sinking to his knees. “Come on Starlight, lock onto me. Just focus on me, nothing else.” He licks a single stripe up to Simon’s head, to which Simon shivers. “Tell me to stop.” He then sinks almost all the way down— Holy shit—
Simon gasps as his angel deepthroats him. He wasted no time in grabbing onto Ryland’s hair, guiding him deeper, while trying not to hurt him. As much as Simon could imagine fucking Ryland’s face and coming down his throat, his safety came first. Always.
“Shit—” He groans as Ryland looks up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Yes, yes, yes angel— Just like that. Just like that— Good boy.”
Ryland groaned, sending vibrations up and down his cock.
Fuck, Ryland was too good at this. He was warm and incredible and wet, and that crazy thing he does with his tongue—
“Wait— Wait, stop. Hold on, fuck.”
Ryland’s eyebrows crease in worry, and he pulls away almost immediately.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Was it bad?”
“Bad? No, God, no, it was too damn good. I would have come too fast. Shit, Ry, you’re amazing.”
He cupped Ryland’s cheeks and kissed him. This one is slower, more intimate. For a brief moment in their frenzy, the room goes quiet.
God, Simon loved him.
But as soon as the sentimental tone was replaced with the heat of desire, Simon grabbed Ryland with both hands, lifted him up, and switched their positions. Ryland now sat on top of the desk as Simon’s hands drifted up Ryland’s back, both of them realizing that they were still wearing far too much clothing.
In record time, both of their shirts were on the floor, and their pants long forgotten. Just two dudes with their dicks facing the world. Who could ask for more?
“Hang on, just lemme close my laptop.”
“Ryland.”
“And my notes are everywhere, crap—”
“Ryland.”
“There’s usually not this much mess, I was just—”
Simon turned his jaw to face him.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Ryland stuttered, his face flushing pink.
“Yeah. Yeah— I can do that, yeah—”
Simon cut him off by connecting their lips. He smiled into the kiss at the look on Ryland’s face. He loved his nerd, who he’d bedded countless times before, but still blushed at the idea of kissing him. He loved his sexy little nerd.
Simon’s lips traveled downward to the nape of Ryland’s neck, his voice slightly muffled.
“Lube?”
“Bottom left drawer.”
Simon looks at him, surprised. Ryland hides his face.
“I never know when you’re just gonna… set me off. Walk into a room looking all pretty, do maintenance on something and your arms are just stupidly strong, or you’ll say something super sexy and not realize it, so you just walk away.” Simon places the lube on the desk, looking Ryland in the eye. “And I’ve gotta… you know… Take care of it.”
Simon felt something within him go from needing to inhuman.
“Really?”
Ryland sheepishly nods as Simon squirts a generous amount onto his hand.
“If I ever don’t realize it in the future, you just tell me, and I’ll…” Simon’s hand snakes down Ryland’s spine, leaving a slick trail in its wake. The convict inches right up to Ryland’s ear and mutters, “I’ll take care of you.”
Ryland shivers, “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of you, angel. Lie down for me.”
Ryland complies, moving his laptop and his research out of the way, as well as any little desk trinkets that may poke him as he laid down on his back.
“Good boy,” His angel whimpers as he slides a finger in. “This okay?”
“Yeah. Another.”
He adds another, slowly but surely stretching him out. Ryland gasps.
“Please.”
“You sure?”
“Do it. Wreck me, come on.”
Oh. Oh, now he’d said it.
“Shit—” He stuck two more in, reveling in his angel’s expression as they went in and out. He poked and prodded, searching in all the familiar places, when finally, he struck gold.
“Ngh— Ah! Hah—” Ryland’s back arched beautifully, and Simon ran his tongue along his angel’s toned abs. His glasses sat crooked on the bridge of his nose, and had begun to fog up with how Ryland panted. “Hhn—”
“There he is.”
Simon drank up each and every sound his angel made, every muscle and bone in his body reacting like an animal. He abused Ryland’s prostate until the man was trembling beneath him, begging for respite.
“Simon please— Please, I need—”
“I’ve got you.” Simon retracted his hand and immediately doused it in slick, lathering it onto his cock. “You sure you’re ready?”
“I’m not made of glass. I won’t break that easily.”
Simon grinned, “Oh, angel, you really shouldn’t have said that.”
Ryland wrapped his legs around Simon’s waist, an uncharacteristic confidence radiating from him alongside a desperation— A love-shaped glimmer in his ocean eyes that made Simon choke on his own heartbeat, made his rational mind melt into mush and his guts go gooey.
“Maybe I should have. Maybe then you’ll pound me into the desk till the sun rises tomorrow. Maybe you’ll rail me until my legs don’t work.” Ryland teased and oh fuck the words went straight to his cock. “Come on, Starlight, give it to me. Wanna be good— I need you. Need you inside—”
Simon braced his elbow against the desk, lined himself up…
“Shit— Shit—”
And breached.
They took it slow, panting in unison. Simon’s head filled with fuzz, taking every outlet of strength and patience within him not to thrust all the way in and fuck Ryland stupid. Ryland’s breath shook, trembling like the rest of him. His panting turned to holding his breath as another inch went in.
“Breathe, Ryland.”
His angel gasped for air, choking out a breathy whimper as his hands wrapped around Simon’s shoulders and unconsciously dragging his nails down the skin of his shoulderblades and fuck— Simon didn’t know he had a thing for that, but he sure did now.
Ryland’s desperation bit back at him in the form of the burning sensation running up his spine as Simon pushed in further. He breathed and counted through it, not wanting him to stop, but still waiting out the uncomfortable prelude.
They collectively gasped as Simon bottomed out. They clung to each other like starfish, panting. When had the temperature gotten so hot in here?
Simon looked up, his voice etched with concern.
“Fuck, angel. Angel, you okay?”
Ryland couldn’t form words. The feeling overwhelmed him, tears brimming his eyes and threatening to fall. Simon stopped in place, completely inside his husband. He reached up to tenderly wipe the tears away.
“You need to stop?”
“No—” He choked out, “I’m okay, I’m— Just gimme a minute.”
Simon’s hand found its way to Ryland’s soft locks, brushing through them and lovingly scratching at his scalp. Ryland sighed, shakily, with contentment, his arms locked around Simon’s shoulders.
“You’re doing so good, Ry. So good for me. Fuck— You’re perfect. My perfect angel.” Simon praised, kissing up and down Ryland’s chest, neck, and shoulders. “You alright?”
“Mhm,” Ryland leaned up and kissed him, “Don’t stop touching me, alright?”
“Never.” Simon snickered.
His hands wandered as he continued to work his mouth across Ryland’s torso, eventually finding his way to his nipples. He played with one using his free hand and took the other in his mouth, Ryland’s beautiful noises encouraging him onward. Ryland’s arms, wrapped around his shoulders, traveled up to yank at his black locks, pulling a groan from his throat.
“Yes— God—”
Simon grinned, “No, just me.”
He then returned back to the task at hand.
Ryland writhed in his hold, the uncomfortable sensation slowly ebbing away and granting passage to something light and fluttery, dancing in the pit of his stomach— The pit that he just realized how incredibly full it was. How every subtle movement of Simon’s hips would send shockwaves over every muscle, every inch, every sensation screaming at him to get more of it.
The precipice of pleasure was right in front of him, and God, he’d never needed anything more in his life. Simon twitched and hesitated inside him, waiting oh so patiently for Ryland to simply give the word, despite the fact that it was clearly taking all of his effort to make sure he wasn’t hurting him.
Ryland sighed with contentment, leaning his head against Simon’s shoulder. When did he ever get so lucky?
But as much as the adoration filled him whole, so did Simon’s cock, which reawakened the yearning notion that he needed to be fucked right this very instant.
“Simon—“ He panted, pulling at the convict’s hair. “Simon, move.”
He paused, dislodging himself from Ryland’s chest.
“You sure?”
“Please. Don’t wanna wait anymore—“
Ryland shifted and began to grind against Simon’s cock, sparking a groan from the other man. He grinned, but Simon grabbed his hips and stopped him.
“I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“If anything hurts, I’ll tell you and we’ll stop, I promise, but right now I need you to move. Please— Come on, fuck me like you mean it.” Ryland begged, the pleas going straight to Simon’s cock. “Please, please, I wanna be good for you, please let me be good—“
“Okay. Okay, I’ve got you, angel. Hold on.” He said, bracing his hand on the desk beside Ryland’s head.
Simon would have marveled at how painstakingly breathtaking his husband was if he wasn’t so hard right now.
Simon started the pace slow, mostly to make sure Ryland wasn’t in any pain, but also to tease him a bit more. Evidently, a little patience could get a man a very long way.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ryland’s fingernails quickly found their way around Simon’s shoulders, clawing feverishly at his back. A groan erupted from Simon as the sharp heat traveled to all the right places, and his thrusts absentmindedly began to speed up.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it baby, mark me up. Gimme a reminder of how I fucked your brains out.” He used the low voice he knew sent shivers up Ryland’s spine.
“God— Simon—” Ryland had already been reduced to a babbling mess, his nails digging in harder at the praise. “Please—”
“Been working too much. Been ignoring me in place of your work, you have any idea how shitty that feels, Ry?”
Simon’s pace becomes painfully slow, torturing Ryland’s trembling form beneath him as he pulls almost all the way out, before deliberately thrusting himself back in and holding that position— Ryland nearly cried out with how Simon’s head rubbed right up against his sweet spot, sending tremors down every inch of his body and stars dancing across his vision. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, he might have been drooling, but he didn’t know— Not with a brain turned to mush and a nine inch dick creating a noticeable bulge in his abdomen.
“You have any idea how much you drive me crazy, Ryland? How every time you overwork yourself, I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the wall until you can’t think of anything but my dick inside you.” Simon’s voice rumbled right in Ryland’s ear, making him shiver. “You’ve been doing it on purpose, haven’t you? Pissing me off and egging me on just enough that I’d suck your dick and fuck you against the desk you refused to leave all morning.”
“Hunh—” He whimpered as Simon leaned down, locking his lips in a kiss disturbed by noises and mouths that hug open from every sensation— God, he felt so full, it was perfect—
Simon trapped him in another kiss, his hips gaining motion steadily. Ryland moaned into Simon’s mouth, the sound muffled as Simon consumed his pleas. Their tongues danced a desperate tango, Simon refusing to let go and let him breathe. Ryland’s head filled with fuzz as his delirious, gorgeous sounds greeted Simon’s lips and eventually, the open air when Simon finally let him breathe.
Ryland gasped like a man drowned, teary blue eyes gazing up into Simon’s deep brown. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clung to Simon’s back as their pace increased.
Ryland truly looked angelic. The light glimmered all over him, his disheveled golden hair rustled every which way and beautiful marks left up and down his neck and chest, the scientist’s nipples puffed up and needy as tears gathered and fell from those deep ocean eyes.
If Simon could bottle the look on his face and get drunk on it, he would.
“You look so fucking good right now, Ry. So beautiful.” Simon grasped Ryland’s hip with his bracing hand, the other reaching up and interlocking Grace’s fingers with his. “My angel. Fuck, I love you.”
Ryland hiccupped, “I love you too.”
Simon grinned, “Shit, you’re still coherent. Gotta fix that, don’t we?”
“Just because— I’m— Holy— Wait, Simon!!”
The pace increased exponentially, and all coherent thoughts were forgotten.
“Si— Oh my God— Ah! Hah— Please, please—”
“Hold on!”
Ryland’s back arched as he scrambled to grab onto the desk above his head and hold on for dear life. Simon gripped his hips with both hands, thrusting in earnest. Simon adjusted his hips, trying to find a very specific—
“Fuck!”
There it is.
“Simon— Simon— fuck—”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, come on, let loose for me. Focus on me, angel. Nothing else—”
“S-so close— Simon— I’m— Please— God, please, please—”
Ryland was begging now, he must be really close. He’s almost there too, but Simon wanted to make Ryland come first. He had to make his angel unravel at the seams or he thinks he might just keel over and die.
“You like this? You like bouncing on my cock when you don’t wanna listen? That’s it, that’s it, good boy.”
“Si— Mnh—”
“So so good for me— Come on, angel, you gonna come for me? You wanna come all over our stomachs, you wanna show me how good you feel?” Simon growls, a vicious grin rumbling in Ryland’s ear. His angel was outright bouncing against the desk, the wood creaking in protest, his glasses wonderfully askew. Simon took Ryland’s neglected cock in his hand and began stroking him with vigor. “You want me to do this every day, angel? You want to sit at this desk until I fuck your brains out? Or you could be on a video call with those Eridian scientists, trying to focus while I’m under the desk sucking your cock?”
“Simon— Holy fuck—” Ryland cried out, tossing his head back. “Holy— Shoot, I’m so close— I’m— Oh fuck— Please— pleasepleaseplease—”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you— Come on angel, you wanna come for me, Ryland? You wanna be good for me?”
Ryland let go of the desk and locked his arms around any part of Simon he could grasp, begging for closeness, friction, release— He was practically sobbing.
“Yes— Yes, yes yesyesyes fuck— I’m— Simon! Simon!!” His angel screamed as he came, his back arching against the wood, toes curling inward, and nails digging into Simon’s skin and he couldn’t get enough of it. His scientist came all over both of their chests, his cock twitching as the slick poured out. Simon’s thrusts quickened, helping Ryland ride out his high while chasing his own release.
“Fuck— Fuck Ryland that’s so sexy. You did so good, so good for me—”
Ryland flopped down against the desk, boneless. His breath stuttered from both the praise and the overstimulation. The tears running down his cheeks, the messy hair, the glasses they’d neglected to set aside—
Ryland was a mess, and Simon was so fucking close to coming at that thought alone.
Simon picked up the pace further, and a spent whine sounded from Ryland.
“I know, I know angel— Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? I’m almost there, I’ve got you.” Simon huffed, “You want me inside?”
Ryland nodded breathlessly. His eagerness only edged Simon closer, grunting from the exertion. It was painful, how close he was—
“Do it,” Ryland pleaded, wrapping his arms around Simon’s neck and pulling him in close. “Give it to me, Starlight. Fill me up— Come on— Please—”
“Fuck— Fuck— I’m—”
Simon came with a strangled shout, ripping from the back of his throat as his husband’s back arched again— He groaned, he could feel Simon twitching as the warmth spread inside him.
For a moment, they both remained still, panting into the open air. Then eventually, Simon pulled out, and Ryland immediately missed the contact, but was more consumed by how exhausted he was. Everything felt like he’d been served a main course of soreness with a side of post-orgasm fever.
Simon guided Ryland up to a sitting position on the desk, but Ryland honestly didn’t feel like sitting up, so instead he let his head fall forward to rest in the crook of Simon’s neck. They both took a long moment to just breathe.
“You alright?” Simon eventually asked, cradling the back of Ryland’s head and running his fingers through his hair.
“Mhm,” Ryland mumbled, blissfully content and tired. “Sore.”
Simon chuckled, and Ryland couldn’t explain how he felt at that moment if he tried. Such a flurry of adoration after an adrenaline rush, a deep sense of appreciation for the treasure he’s been given the gift to hold.
It suddenly occurred to him that in all his life, he’s never really had a home. He felt the most “in his own skin” when he was teaching. He was comfortable, but never once had he truly wondered what home felt like.
He wondered if this was it.
Simon made the assumption that no, Ryland most definitely could not walk at the moment, so Ryland let himself be picked up and carried across the house. He still marveled at Simon’s ability to pick him up so effortlessly. To be fair, he’d already been fairly built back when they cut him out of the iron lung, and despite being the shorter of the two, Simon was still huge.
Thoughts for another time.
The next couple minutes went by in a haze. Simon laid him down in bed, then left and came back with a wet cloth to clean up their cum-stained bodies. Ryland let himself be pampered, too tired to do much else.
At one point, as Simon was taking particular care with him, handling him like a priceless gift, the words slipped out before he even knew he’d said them.
“Love you.”
Simon looked up with those big brown eyes of his, smiled, and kissed him.
“Love you too, Ry.”
Finally, after they were both more-or-less clean (as far as “clean” could be considered between actually free of mess versus no longer covered in each other’s semen), Simon climbed into bed and Ryland wasted no time in rolling over to rest his head against the nape of his neck. He sighed, a fluffy feeling gathering in his chest as Simon’s arm looped around him and rested atop his lower back.
“Hey,” Simon greeted, gazing down at his lovely husband.
“Hey,” Ryland chimed back, looking up. “I’m really happy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A short beat, “I’m happy too.”
“Yay,” Ryland cheers, tiredly, mumbling softly against Simon’s chest that rumbles up and down as he chuckles.
The simplest of conversations, and yet, it spoke wonders for the both of them. Nothing more needed to be said as Ryland found himself already nodding off. The feeling of Simon’s fingers combing through his hair did very little to keep him awake, as in just a few minutes, he was blissfully out cold.
Simon carefully took Ryland’s crooked glasses off of the bridge of his nose, managed to fold them with one hand, and then set them on the nightstand beside him.
Other than the sex itself, Simon’s favorite moments were ones like these. The peaceful aftermath. A loving stillness.
He held his husband close, wondering faintly how he’d ever come to deserve such bliss. Ryland was simply incredible, he was patient, he was kind, he was everything. He was more than life.
Even when he was being stubborn.
But all that meant was that in the future, if Ryland wanted to keep ignoring him when he pestered about sleep, about food, about work that Ryland refuses to leave…
Well then, he’d just have to get a little more creative, wouldn’t he?