Chapter Text
Simon wakes before Grace. The early-morning light slanting through the window rouses him, as it always does.
He’s not in his room.
Papers stacked haphazardly on the dresser, a sweater thrown over the back of a chair, a pair of glasses on the nightstand… oh, right. He’s in Grace’s room.
They’ve shifted in their sleep. Grace is now sprawled over Simon, an arm wrapped around his chest and his face tucked into the crook of his neck and a leg thrown over his. When Simon takes in a deep breath, Grace makes a little displeased sound and tightens his grip. He burrows deeper into Simon and sighs deeply through his nose.
Carefully, Simon rests his hand on Grace’s hip. He’s warm. His breath tickles just a bit against Simon’s neck. When Simon peeks down at him, Grace’s golden hair is messy, sticking up everywhere. He dares, just for a moment, to press his nose into soft locks and inhale the scent of soap and sleep and sunlight.
Selfish.
“Hey,” Grace murmurs against his skin.
The not-quite-glass of the window casts shards of colorful light across Grace’s ceiling, Simon notices. “Hey.”
A hand strokes across his cheek and Simon lets himself be drawn into a close-lipped kiss. At the barest flick of Grace’s tongue he opens his mouth and lets him in, uses his hand to tug Grace closer. The man hums into his mouth as he rolls further on top of Simon. Simon’s instincts light up, analyzing Grace’s weight and stance, telling him that he could easily throw him off if need be. He would never.
”Last night…” Another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t expect it. I didn’t think you… I mean…”
Didn’t think I what? Simon loses that train of thought when Grace readjusts his position and rolls his hips down, his wandering mouth now on Simon’s jaw. The left side, he notices, just below the teeth that now jut from his cheek. He can’t help the, “Fuck,” that he grits out at just that barest bit of pressure on his cock.
“Been a bit for you too, huh?” Grace asks against his earlobe.
Simon nods once.
“Yeah?” He slides a hand down Simon’s chest and rests it against his lower stomach. “Can I fix that?”
Simon lets himself be undressed. The feeling of Grace's hands, warm and unhurried, along his newly-bared skin is divine. The sex he's had was never this sensual, never involved the press of bare chests or pausing just to kiss; both parties were always clothed, garments moved aside just enough to reach what they needed to, listening for any sign that they needed to pull apart and pretend they'd never been touching. Not for the first time, he feels a flash of jealousy for the world Grace comes from. Could things have been different for him in a world like that?
No. He knows it as he knows his own name. In any world, any place, any time, he would have been the Butcher. There is no escaping himself.
Grace's hand finds his cock. He's still not fully hard, but Grace seems unbothered by having to coax him a little, dragging his fingers languidly down Simon's shaft. Simon is reminded of a frantic handjob in a storage closet, a guy he did supply runs with pressed against his back as he jerked Simon off, his other hand held over Simon's mouth to help muffle his groans. Later that day, he'd cornered the guy's bunkmate, a blue-eyed boy barely old enough to be living in the adult quarters, and wordlessly broken his nose. He can’t remember what for — stealing, maybe, or being a snitch — but he remembers the animalistic fear on his face as Simon grabbed him by the shirt collar. The sickening, satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath his knuckles.
"What are you thinking about?" Grace asks softly.
Simon meets his eyes. Blue, like the waters outside that he refuses to approach.
"You."
Grace's cheeks flush and he drops his forehead to Simon's sternum. "Oh my god. What about me?"
"Wonderin' whether you wanna ride me or want me to fuck you."
"Jesus Christmas." Grace kisses over his heart. Then, in answer to Simon's question, he sits back on his knees and drags his cunt along the underside of Simon's cock, smearing wetness over searing skin. Simon's hips buck once, minutely, but he keeps himself from rutting into the sensation and just lets Grace rub against him. Grace grinds the little head of his cock against Simon's for a moment each time he reaches it. Up, down, up, down, the touch torturously light. Simon wonders if he wants to drag this out after how fast he came last night. Or if he wants Simon to beg for it.
The words are on the tip of his tongue — C'mon, please, use me — but dissolve into a groan as Grace finally grips the base of his cock and lowers himself onto it. Slowly, he's engulfed in heat, Grace taking him inch by inch until he's fully seated. Simon clutches desperately at his thigh as Grace breathes, "Holy shit, feels good, Simon, you feel so good." He rocks his hips carefully, experimentally, and reaches out to touch Simon's cheek. "Good?" he asks.
"Yeah." Simon wants to lean into the touch. Instead, he soothes his hand up Grace's thigh and under his ass and nudges, encouraging him to lift off his cock and then grind himself back down. Grace braces a hand on Simon's shoulder and the other on his chest as he finds a steady rhythm, his head tipped forward and eyes falling shut. Simon can't help but stare up at him while he's unwatched; Grace is haloed in light and knit-browed in concentration and breathtaking. He marvels at the softness in the man's expressions, at the way his mouth falls open in an unrestrained moan. He lets himself imagine briefly what it would feel like to have those lips open for him, to have Grace suckle at his fingers or the head of his dick.
Selfish.
By the time Grace opens his eyes again, Simon has dropped his gaze.
"God, look at you." The hand on his chest slides to a pectoral and kneads. "Been wanting to get my hands on these for ages, Simon, fuck."
Simon worries at his bottom lip. "Sorry for making you wait."
"No, no, baby, don't worry," Grace says quickly.
He has both hands on Simon's chest down, groping at him in a way Simon has never experienced. He sweeps a thumb over Simon's nipple and Simon's back arches before he can stop himself, slamming his length up into Grace's cunt. He bites down an apology when he sees the way Grace's face lights up in a wide-eyed half-smile. Grace does it again, rolling the nipple beneath his thumb, and then closes two fingers around it and pinches. The noise Simon makes is breathy and inhuman.
"So sensitive," Grace murmurs. "Have you not played with these before?"
Simon shakes his head. Grace pinches his other nipple and he turns his head into the pillows as he moans again.
"You like it?"
Oh, he does want to hear Simon beg for it. To plead for his favor, his regard. Though his face burns with embarrassment, a lifetime of prayer makes this easy.
"I — yeah, fuck, I like it. Don't stop, please, Grace, keep touchin' me..."
Grace picks up speed as he continues tugging at Simon's nipples, his ass now making a soft smack every time it meets Simon's hips. Simon writhes under the attention, both familiar and new sensations threatening to overwhelm him. He feels like a live wire. He squeezes his eyes shut and nearly loses himself in pleasure until —
"Shit. Grace." He grasps at Grace's hip. "You gotta — fuck — lemme pull out, I'm close, I don't wanna seed you."
Grace stops and cocks his head. "What?"
"I said I'm gonna seed you if you're not careful, c'mon." Simon pauses. "Unless that's... what you want?"
He sees it click in Grace's head. "Oh! Oh, Simon, we don't have to worry about that, I can't get pregnant."
"Oh."
"Yeah, we're safe." Grace dips his head to kiss him. "And I really, really want you to come inside, so."
The knot of worry in Simon's chest unties itself and he nods fervently. He's never had that luxury before and the thought of it is intoxicating. Grace picks up where he left off, this time licking his fingers before he returns them to Simon's chest. He shudders at the cold, wet touch to his nipple and groans, "Grace, Grace," low in his throat.
"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?"
A whine escapes between Simon's teeth. He wraps his arm around Grace's waist and snaps his hips up once, twice, three times before he comes, his cock throbbing as he fills Grace's warm, wet hole. Grace moans louder than he does at the feeling of it and reaches to tug at his own cock with three fingers. Simon is oversensitive, wrung-out, but he immediately says, "Let me, I've got you," and takes over. He fumbles for a moment before getting a good grip of him, focusing at the head as Grace's cunt clenches around him. It's not long before Grace spews a mix of curses and Simon's name and grabs at Simon's wrist to tell him to stop.
Grace collapses onto Simon and presses his face into his shoulder. Simon can feel their heartbeats, quick and slightly offset from each other, as they both gasp for air. They're quiet for longer than Simon expects; Grace fills every space with words, just a nod or interested hum from Simon enough to keep him rambling, but right now, he's silent. He kisses at Simon's trapezius and sighs softly.
It takes a moment for Simon to realize that his shoulder is wet. When he looks down, Grace is trembling. “Hey. Are you — is something wrong?”
Grace shakes his head, face still hidden. A shaky inhale becomes a sob.
“Seriously, you can just tell me. What’d I fuck up?” Tell me and I’ll fix it. I can be good.
“No, no, you — Simon, that was amazing, I just...” He sniffles and turns his head to look at Simon with watery eyes. “When I came here, I had to accept that I’d never get to do a lot of things again. Like, I’ll never have breakfast at my favorite diner, or see a big fluffy dog out on a walk, or visit, like, the Great Wall of China.”
Simon furrows his brow. “The what?”
“The Great Wall of — actually, it’s fine, that was just a random Earth landmark. We can look at pictures later, it’s a very impressive feat of architecture, but I just mean that I left behind these… fundamentally human things.”
Simon nods slowly. He had started to ache for the most mundane things while in prison. The friendly clap of a hand on his shoulder after a successful mission. The way it felt to stretch his unshackled arms above his head in the morning.
“So, y’know, I thought I’d never see another human being ever again, let alone have sex. It’s… a lot to process.” A quiet tear slips down Grace’s cheek, but he still smiles as he leans in for a kiss. Then, nose wrinkled, he says, “Alright, I should shower. Gotta clean out… you know.”
“Okay.” Simon doesn’t let his hand linger as Grace pulls away and stands.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?” Grace calls over his shoulder. Golden light catches on his bared back as he disappears through his bathroom doorway. After a second, he sticks his head back out and adds, “Oh, and then we can find some footage of the Great Wall!”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
Grace beams at him before ducking back out of view. Simon can’t remember ever seeing someone look at him like that. He’s never deserved that sort of radiant joy. He still doesn’t, of course, but god, he’d rip off his other arm if it meant Grace would keep looking at him like that.
Selfish.
“Shut up,” he hisses.
Though he’d much rather drift back off surrounded by sleep-scented sheets, Simon retreats to his room for a shower of his own. He won't overstay his welcome.