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Simon thought sex would fix him. He really did. Secretly, he even.. hoped it would.
That shit feels stupid now. Simon, no more a boy but now a man, looked around. It.. felt weird. You know, not to come because of some whore on a screen, but because of…
He looked to his side. There, David sat. Shirtless. Pantless, too, but he'd rather not think or look at that right now. His chest puffed and sank back down again at a snail's pace, so much so he was a little worried.
Simon found a place against his shoulder. He sighed. David didn't reply, or even respond at all.
He got that stupid hope again in his chest, the one that wanted David to comfort him, to hug him like they do in the chick flicks, the ones Simon would never admit he watched after he ran out of hardcore porn…
This had to be like.. some post nut clarity thing. Or maybe David was just too high right now. Fuck, was he too high? Did he.. did he force this on him? Shit, is he like-- a rapist now? Oh god, oh shit, oh--
With a moment Simon was too stuck in his head to notice, David put his arm around Simon's bare waist. He moved him over against his chest, and Simon noticed that they didn't even look that different.
Like, yeah, David was a little taller, and had wider shoulders, and sexy calloused hands, but he also had the same abhorrently visible ribcage and injection marks and cutting scars.
Simon took David's wrist into his hand and ran his thumb across it. It was an interesting texture, and it looked older than any of Simon's scars, and besides, David would've stopped him if he didn't like it…
Or… Or would he? The more his mind stewed on the idea, the less he was sure. David came, yeah, but that's not a surefire way to tell if he did like it. If he liked him.
Because goddamnit, Simon's chest felt raw again with tears in his eyes, goddamnit! He wanted to feel wanted. And.. that's what sex's meant to be! Right?!
It's supposed to be tender, close, bridging, or like, connecting, or something. His mind blanked on the words but he had this image of sex being some kind of great thing and he's here now and he doesn't feel any more of a man than he did before.
David's hand twitched inside his own. He felt it when he jerked it away, because for fuck’s sake, he can't have nice things.
Because even after sex, David couldn't fucking pretend he liked having him around.
He watched him reach into his discarded pants’ pocket and take out a pill bottle like a car crash in slow motion.
Simon was frozen in place when he shuffled loudly through the nearly empty bottle, and dug out a capsule with the gracefulness of half dead roadkill.
He wanted to stop him, to yell in his ears that he was right here, that he could be his vice, if nothing else! Because damnit, will he ever be anything for him?!
But.. he couldn't.
So, he sat there wordlessly and watched David pop some pills after sex.