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Simon sleeps on the floor in the living room.
Patiently waiting for Grace to clean up, Simon listens to the familiar sound of feet padding against floorboards and for the front door to slam shut before he jumps to his feet and runs out of the closet. He makes sure to run his ruined boxers under the water and wipe himself clean before changing into another pair of pants.
He's leaving the bathroom with his wet, wrung out boxers when the front door swings open and Simon is met with Grace staring at him across the room.
"Oh!" Grace gives a wonky smile. His hair is still a little messy from the events that just transpired about twenty minutes ago. His eyes dart down to Simon's busted lip before flickering up to the shorter man's eyes. Like he's pretending he didn't just stare at Simon's mouth. "When did you get here?"
"Um. Just now. I was taking a walk," he lies straight through his teeth, giving a little wave before realizing that he's holding his soiled boxers in that hand. "I was. I was going to do the laundry."
"Yes, good idea," Grace says. He gives Simon that smile. The same one that looked wonky and wrong on Grace's face when he was telling himself to be normal and pretend in the mirror. It's so fake, Simon wants to laugh. "What happened to your lip?"
"Bit it too hard," Simon replies quickly. "Do you have any clothes I should put away?"
"Uh, I don't think so. But if you see any, just let me know. I'm going to sit outside and get some work done."
It should go without saying that Simon is always invited to sit with Grace. He just doesn't think he will.
Grace grabs his laptop from the floor next to the couch and leaves through the front door without another word and Simon is left standing there with his heart in his throat and the urge to cry for no particular reason. Why does he feel like he fucked up?
Later in the night, when they're both turning in for bed, Simon waits for Grace to fall asleep next to him before he's crawling out of the room and slinking his way to the living room. After sleeping on hard concrete his entire life, having a comfortable bed with soft pillows and blankets that feel unreal on his bare skin feels wrong.
Plus, he can focus on his own thoughts and ignore the rest of the world when he's sitting on the floor of the living room. He crosses his legs, staring at the wall, before finally deciding to lay down.
He's out like a light.
The next morning, he wakes up to a loud shriek. He jumps up, groggy, and blearily has to rub the sleep out of his eyes when he notices Grace standing at the doorframe of the bedroom.
"The fuck are you yelling for?" Simon asks. He stretches his legs outwards to regain the feeling in them before getting on his feet.
"I just— you scared the daylights out of me!" Grace says, "I thought you were dead!"
"Why would I be dead?"
"I don't know! Maybe you were getting up to get water and you tripped and bumped your head on the coffee table or something," Grace says, crossing his arms. "I've worked with middle school children. I've seen them get hurt in worse ways."
Simon smiles. Oh, what he would do to have that; to have been a student where your biggest worry was finishing your homework on time after you started it two hours before bedtime.
"I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep in the bed."
Grace does a horrible job at covering up the horror that takes over his expression.
Simon raises an eyebrow. "Um. You okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Grace clears his throat, bringing the side of his fist to his lips to cough into his hand. "Sorry. Just— brain's been foggy. Y'know." He brings his hand up to the side of his head and wiggles his fingers as if to portray his mind.
"Yeah."
He's not sure what else to say. He's never done very well in awkward situations. Almost everyone he's ever known in his life were people he grew up with. Then he was in prison and he spent his days getting ignored or berated by the guard, trying to speak to the other members of Eden that were imprisoned, or getting more information out of other citizens belonging to different colonies that the Consolidation captured.
Really, he isn't sure how to navigate this weird interaction. It's never been this awkward with Grace, who talks over awkward tension so well that Simon sometimes forgets there was tension in the first place.
"I'm going to take a shower and get ready for class. What do you plan on doing today?"
"Adrian and Rocky should be swinging by later. Plants and engineering stuff. The norm."
Simon can't believe something like that is now considered the norm for him. Pinch him, he must still be dreaming.
"Fun! Let me know how it goes," Grace says, then promptly leaves before anything could get more uncomfortable.
Simon doesn't entirely know how to make this any less awkward. So he waits for Grace to get ready (grabbing a book sitting on the coffee table to pass the time). Once Grace leaves, he gets ready for the day himself: washing his face and brushing his teeth before sitting down with his own personalized laptop.
Time to do some research.
…
Okay.
Okay, wow.
Simon thinks he's learned the bare basics of how sexual relations work between two consenting adults. He only did a little bit of research, brain constantly nagging at him to do anything else other than learn. He'd rather continue his fantasy novel sitting in the closet than do research on Earth customs.
So what Simon did in the closet was no short of wrong. Grace didn't know Simon was watching him through a wall. Knew exactly what he was doing.
But Grace was thinking of Simon while he was doing it. Which, apparently, is high praise! It means Grace thinks Simon is attractive. Physically attractive. Romantic feelings, maybe, but Simon doesn't want to entertain that thought. Things like romance weren't allowed from where he was from. He's seen first hand what happens to those who want to be together but don't want children.
That's another thing: Simon wouldn't want to get Grace pregnant.
It sounds silly and Simon's face heats the moment he thinks about it, but if Grace is not biologically male, it means he still has female parts. Which means there is a chance Simon could get him pregnant. And he doesn't even want to think about the implications of that.
Or what if Simon is just thinking about this too much? What if Grace doesn't even want to actually have sex with him? That is completely fine; Simon would respect Grace's decision over and over no matter what. According to Simon's research, masturbation has a multitude of health positives and it especially helps with stress. Grace is always a ball of tension ready to explode at any given moment.
Maybe Grace was just relieving tension and Simon is the only person in his general vicinity he could think about that could help him relieve that tension?
The door opens and Simon's hand shoots for the top of the laptop screen and crushes it down before whoever could even take a step inside. The relief in Simon's chest is staggering the moment his eyes land on Rocky's carapace.
"Fuck, you scared the shit out of me," Simon says. He pushes the laptop off his lap and onto the couch.
"Rocky knock," Rocky tuts the best an Eridian can. "Nobody answer door. Grace say safe neighbourhood. How can be safe neighbourhood if only neighbour that lives in area does not answer door?"
Simon smiles. "Sorry. I was just doing some research."
"Research, question?" Rocky trills curiously. "What of, question?"
"…It's nothing serious. Just Earth customs," Simon says. That isn't technically a lie. "Um. Greenhouse, right?"
"Yes! Adrian make new changes. Excited to show you."
Simon moves to his feet, stretching his legs. "Alright. Lead the way."
Grace ends class a lot earlier than he wanted to. His students were too loud, the sun too bright on his sensitive eyes, and everything off kilter. He knows he gets like this sometimes, and his students were quick to offer anything and everything they could to make him more comfortable. He said it was fine, gave them their homework, and sent them on their merry way.
When he gets home, he nearly falls face first into the couch before noticing Simon's laptop left idly on the couch. Curious, he picks it up and sits down with it in his lap.
Surely he wouldn't mind if he used his laptop to watch a movie, right? A good way to unwind after a long day. He knows he should probably eat something, but he just isn't hungry and he's exhausted. Falling asleep on the couch watching a movie sounds infinitely more appealing than moving his sluggish legs to cook synthetic meat.
He opens the laptop, taps on the spacebar to wake it up. It already has a handful of tabs open.
Grace's heart drops when he reads the first one.
"Oh, my God," he murmurs to himself, eyes wide and unblinking as his eyes dart back and forth over the words in the search bar.
What the hell? What type of research was Simon even doing?
Grace puts a hand over his eyes instinctively. His face is hot to the touch. Oh, this is such an invasion of privacy!
Still, his curiosity nags at him when he switches to the next tab. It's all research on… hm. The wording Simon uses isn't of the norm. Self-pleasure? What is he; deeply catholic?
Switching through the tabs, He finds one with the question typed into the search bar 'what does it mean when your friend masturbates to you'.
His heart flatlines.
There's no way. Right?
How did Simon know? He wasn't in the house. Maybe Simon entered the house, overheard Grace, and left to give him privacy? Maybe it came to him in a dream. No, Ryland, that's stupid.
Either way, Grace has no idea how he's going to look Simon in the eye after this.
Horrified, he switches back to the original tab that greeted Grace when he first opened the laptop and closes the device. He puts it back exactly where he left it, heads to the bedroom, and screams into a pillow.
Simon doesn't get back until later in the night to find Grace sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room, legs crossed with his laptop in his lap typing furiously. He has never seen Grace so focused before.
"Ryland."
Grace blinks, tears brimming his eyes when he realizes he hasn't blinked in a while. He wipes his face and looks at Simon. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Again.
"Oh! Hi, welcome back. How was the greenhouse?"
"Adrian ended up installing these solar panels before realizing that the light in the dome is artificial."
Grace smiles, amused, with his brows furrowed. "Didn't work?"
Simon walks over to Grace and plops right down next to him. There's a good few inches of space between them. Simon rolls his eyes playfully and puts his hand on his knee. "Who would've guessed."
With this newfound knowledge that Grace was only masturbating just to relieve some tension based off his research, Simon finds it infinitely less weird that he was masturbating to him. After all, Simon is the only human within ten or more light years, so it just makes sense.
Sex can be intimate. Sex can be difficult between two people that just don't click, and sex can be solely for reproduction. In Grace's case, sex is for stress relief. Nothing more and nothing less.
(Simon feels a little stupid for thinking that it could have meant more than he wants it to.)
"I need to talk to you about something," Grace says, snapping his laptop shut. It reminds Simon of this morning when Rocky walked in on him.
"Yes?" Simon asks, turning to Grace to give him his full, undivided attention. He wishes he could give him more, even though that's a silly, unrealistic thought.
"I—" Grace inhales through his nose, looks up at the ceiling, then squeezes his eyes shut. He shuffles slightly away from Simon like he's a poison and something inside of Simon's chest squeezes.
"Did you… overhear anything yesterday?"
Simon blinks. "What?"
"Like—!" Grace clasps both of his palms over his face. "I don't know! I just— Aaaugh, I came home a little early and found your laptop and was like 'aw man I wanna watch a movie and fall asleep, what a tired day', so I open your laptop and I find all of these tabs! And I'm really sorry for going through your laptop, I promise I never intended to and I totally understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore, but these search results—"
Grace finally tears his hands away from his pink cheeks. Simon notices how trembly they are when they land on his laptop in his lap. "I just— dude! Why were you searching up all of that?!"
"Oh. Um." Simon feels like he should be reacting like Grace is. He's acting embarrassed. Regretful. Simon wonders why that is.
He just doesn't want to tell on his little wonder-room in the closet. It's his. Only his. He doesn't want anyone else to touch it, anyone else to know about it.
"Well, I was in the house when you came home yesterday. And you were— I didn't know what it was called so I did a bit of research- and it's called masturbating? And I was curious. It's just to relieve stress. You're always stressed about your Earth's Sun and the pebbles. So I put two and two together. You're stressed and you did something to decompress. That's normal."
Grace stares at Simon in horror.
"You overheard me," Grace mumbles. His hands are caught in his hair and now he's tugging the strands with enough strength to pull chunks out. Simon frowns.
"What's wrong?" Simon asks. "Where I came from, it was considered taboo, but when I researched it, it just seemed like a way to relieve stress. I assumed it was more normal in your culture. I understand."
The horror in Grace's expression morphs into something more curious. "…You're not uncomfortable?"
"Well…" Simon drums his fingers against his knee. "I was wondering why you were saying my name, so—"
"Oh, God! You overheard me saying your name!" Grace thumps the back of his head against the wall he's sitting up against. Fingers ravel up into his hair again and he tugs even harder.
"Hey," Simon says. He reaches up to take Grace's wrist with a frown. The warmth of his skin is unreal. It's so soft. His finger presses gently against his pulse point, can hear how rapidly his heart beats. "Why are you panicking so much? It's fine, Ryland, seriously."
Grace doesn't remove his hand from his messy head of hair but he stops tugging. Only takes a chunk in his fist with Simon's fingers around his wrist to ground him. "Why aren't you panicking? I literally— I got off to you! And you didn't even know about it! Didn't consent to it!"
"Ryl—"
"You should be so angry at me right now. That is a massive breech of respect—!"
"I watched you do it! So stop yelling!"
Grace smacks his lips together so hard his teeth clack loudly. "What?"
"I—" Simon takes a deep, deep breath. He's trying so hard not to freak out. Because if he's freaking out and Grace is also freaking out, then they're going to get nowhere. "I saw you doing it. You were using your fingers to—"
"Stop talking," Grace squeaks, face so horribly red that if Simon didn't know better, he'd think Grace caught a fever. "Stop talking please."
"…Sorry."
Grace opens his eyes. "No, you don't have to apologize. I'm sorry. I just— This is so embarrassing for me. I'm not…"
Grace releases his hair and trails his hand down until his palm is pressing against Simon's. Simon's hand is so much rougher than Grace's, slightly smaller but thicker. Stronger callouses from a history Grace is unaware of, and one that Simon doesn't ever want to talk about.
Simon curls his fingers between the gaps of Grace's and Grace does the same. Simon's heart hiccups. The hand he's holding is the same hand that was inside of Grace just twenty-four Earth hours ago.
"Sex can be intimate for some people. It can be a way to pass the time for others, or maybe just to mess around and have fun. You're right, I've been pent up." He chews on the inside of his mouth.
"Let me help you."
Grace stares at Simon like he's grown another head on his shoulder. Wouldn't be surprised if he takes the mutated blood into consideration.
"What?" his voice reaches an octave and a half higher.
"You were saying my name, right? And you need a stress reliever. I can be that for you," Simon says - and he says it like it's a normal Tuesday afternoon. Like he's offering to pick up milk on the way back from a long day in the office.
Grace's eyes are glassy like he's about to start crying. "Would you want to?"
"Yes." Simon's eyes flutter closed. A squeeze of Grace's hand to make sure he's there with him. "Just- teach me. I don't know the slightest idea on how to help you."
"Simon, are you sure? You are one hundred percent sure you would be willing to do this for me."
For me.
"Anything for you," Simon says, "just show me."
Grace stares at Simon for what feels like too long. The thought of Grace backing out now just adds to the preexisting anxiety that sloshes around in Simon's stomach like a raft on the surface of that blood moon.
Grace unravels his hand first and Simon bites his lip to hold back the urge to make a noise he knows he's going to regret later. His fang cuts deep into the wound scabbing over and he quickly licks it up.
"Wash up and meet me in the bedroom," Grace says. Without another word, he grabs his laptop, pushes himself up onto his feet, and walks down the hall until he's out of view.
So Simon does exactly what Grace asks of him. He heads to the bathroom, washes his hand, takes his hair out of the xenonite hairclip Rocky gifted him when he first started working in the greenhouse, and heads to the bedroom.
He doesn't know what to expect. His heart is hammering in his chest and there's this voice in his head that keeps telling him he's going to humiliate himself in front of Grace. What if he hurts him? Does something he doesn't like? All Simon wants to do is help.
He pushes the door open and there Grace sits, fiddling with his thumbs like he just got in trouble. He lifts his head at the sound of Simon entering the room and smiles uneasily at him.
"Hi."
"Hi," Simon greets back. This feels awkward. He feels like he should be doing more.
"Come, sit on the bed."
Simon does just that. He lifts his legs high up onto the bed and sits down cross-legged, facing Grace. "Okay. Now what?"
Grace puffs his cheeks out as a way to get rid of the heat in his cheeks. It doesn't work. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"
Simon doesn't have to think about it. He shakes his head immediately. "I've seen it before. Not really… done it."
"Okay, well." Grace takes a deep breath, then meets Simon's eyes. There is something more than just determination in them. His eyes suddenly light up as an idea hits him and Simon thinks a light blub is about to appear over his head. "You did research! Tell me what you learned."
"Um." Simon attempts to jog his memory. Still a little foggy, he says, "I know what sex is. It's for reproduction. Only way to keep the human race alive."
The brightness in Grace's eyes fizzle out like a firecracker. "…What? Wait, what did sex mean to you back where you're from?"
"Oh. Reproduction. There weren't very many of us, so it was a woman's job to carry a baby to term—"
"Whoooa!" Grace immediately interrupts. "Christmas Eve, that is dark."
Simon narrows his eyes. "I know women are more than them giving birth, Ryland. I had sisters, too. Where I'm from— they just believed women had to fulfil this role. I know a woman is more than her body."
The relief that sweeps through Grace's face is comical. "Oh, okay. Good. So all you really understand about sex is that it's for reproduction? What did your research tell you?"
"…That pleasure is more than reproduction. Like you said earlier, there are multiple reasons to have sex with someone else. It can be intimate or a way to pass the time."
Grace smiles when he realizes Simon is using exactly what Grace gave him. "Perfect, okay. So did you learn about any… methods?"
"Methods?" Simon raises an eyebrow.
"How to stimulate pleasure. For yourself and others."
Oh. "Uhm. I think… I've masturbated once?"
"Okay. Okay, we can work with this. Do you know what foreplay is?"
Simon shakes his head and with that, Grace jumps into a tangent. He's red faced as he rambles, hands slightly shaking while he talks with them, and Simon has his own questions he can seamlessly ask while Grace is trembling like a scared dog.
Grace asks Simon if he's still comfortable. Simon nods. Then Grace asks if Simon can kiss him. Again, Simon nods.
"Words. You have to use them. I want to make sure you are one hundred percent on board with this."
Simon's heart hiccups again. "Yes, I'm okay with this."
"Close your eyes when you kiss me. And lean your head slightly so our noses don't bump. I'll go slow. Just tell me if you want to back out, if you want anything to change. Okay?"
The corner of Simon's mouth twitches upwards. Grace catches it and smiles back. "You're a dork. Just get a move on."
"Right! Sorry."
Simon doesn't say anything, so Grace leans in. Then their lips are touching.
A hand lands on his shoulder and he breathes through his nose, firmly but softly slotting his own lips against Grace's. Stubble scratches against the corner of his mouth. He's not entirely sure how it's supposed to feel, but it feels nice and Grace isn't backing out, so Simon decides he won't either.
Skin firmly pressed on the scabbed wound on his lip causes him to make a breathy noise into Grace's mouth, and Simon melts into his touch. It stings but it's nothing unbearably painful. Simon could say it even adds to the experience.
He feels Grace's other hand grab his wrist and bring it to his waist, so Simon follows the movement and slots his hand on Grace's waist. He only notices now the amount of fat that bunches up around his waist. So soft, Simon wants to feel it without the fabric in between the touch.
Grace pulls away first. The dazed look in his eye, his pinkish cheeks, and his red lips takes Simon's breath away. He feels like the protagonist in one of his romance fantasy novels.
"You're so beautiful," Simon says without thinking. Grace's eyes widen before cracking another gorgeous smile of his own.
"Oh, thank you," Grace whispers something soft of his own, "was that good?"
Simon doesn't hesitate when he asks, "do it again."
Grace laughs brightly and obliges him.
This time he kisses him deeper and his mind feels like it's slipping. Allows Grace to press deeper and deeper until he's slightly parting his lips and Grace's tongue is grazing his, in his mouth, and he would never ask for anything more than this. It's just so perfect. He breathes a little harder when Grace's tongue runs over the scar on his lip. He can taste the blood in Grace's mouth.
He isn't sure exactly how love is supposed to feel like, but if this is it, he wants to open his chest and tuck it right next to his heart. He only ever felt love similarly to this was when he was a child, when his mother would hold him and sing him to sleep so he wouldn't be alone when everything went dark.
And now Ryland Grace is in his life. He wants to tell his mama he's not going to die scared and alone.
"Grace," Simon makes a weak, almost pathetic sound when Grace parts again, and he doesn't realize that his back is pressed against the mattress's headboard. Grace has a hand on his chest, pressing him down.
When he opens his eyes to meet Simon's, he has the audacity to smile. Teeth and all. Like a fucking nerd. There's a small streak of blood on his top lip. Simon fights back the urge to lick it off.
"Hi," Grace says. "You doing okay?"
"I—" Simon can't find the words. He blinks harshly to get his mind screwed back on tight. "Holy shit, you are actually amazing. Did you know that?"
The compliment doesn't catch Grace off guard. Instead he smiles like an idiot and rubs his thumb back and forth over a patch of skin obscured by Simon's shirt.
"Can I return the favour? I want to know how to help you," Simon says, "teach me where to touch you. I want to make you feel good too."
To this, Grace's entire face goes as red as a tomato. He's so cute when he's bashful. "Oh, wow! Okay, um. Sure."
"I want to take off your pants." A hand on the hem of his jeans and Simon tugs gently. "Please? Only if you want me to to."
"Wow, you are very straightforward," Grace says, shuffling further onto the bed. "The wor— the Universe would benefit from people as straightforward as you."
Simon stares.
"Yes. The answer is yes."
His hesitation is nonexistent. He pulls off the button and unzips the denim, not wasting a minute to keep them on. As soon as Grace kicks them off, Simon is leaning in to chase his lips again.
This time, Simon is on top of him. He presses his broad chest against Grace's, a little whine leaving his mouth that makes both their mouths vibrate. It runs pins and needles through his lips. Weird but good.
"Oh, fuck, Simon," Grace moans when Simon's hand trails down to Grace's stomach, planting his palm right above his cunt.
This is probably the furthest he can go.
"I'll take off your underwear after this," Simon says calmly. Unlike Grace, who's already wetting the insides of his boxers with his slick. He can feel it through the fabric. "What do you want me to do afterwards? I've never done this before. I don't want to hurt you."
"You-you can touch me through my clothes," Grace says. the shade of his cheeks is this cute red that can be so easily pointed out considering his pale skin. Cute. Cute, cute, cute. Simon wants to bite him for some weird reason.
"Like this?" Simon asks, and he feels a small bump twitch against his palm.
"Holy shit-" Grace's voice breaks up into a whine. He throws his head back and gently rolls his hips against Simon's palm, who gets the idea to rub his palm in circular motions against that bump.
Simon doesn't entirely understood how this might feel for Grace, but he can assume it feels good when Grace's moans grow in pitch as he rolls his hips over and over again, the exertion already turning him into a panting mess.
"Take my boxers off first," Grace says, the strain in his voice as clear as day. "Please, I need them off."
Oh. Simon wants to pretend how unaffected he gets when Grace says please like that. He grunts, hooks his fingers around Grace's waistband, and pulls his boxers down. Grace kicks them off like they're searing his skin straight off.
"Okay, here. Give me your hand."
Simon puts out his hand. Grace takes his wrist with one hand and uses his other hand to pinch his middle and ring finger.
"Welcome to health class," he muses drily, then shakes his head to focus up. Stupid Grace. Simon wants to kiss him again. "These two fingers are your strongest. Someone with my type of anatomy usually has two points of pleasure: the clitoris and the vagina. What you were… palming… was my clit."
The embarrassment Grace extrudes by ducking his head makes Simon laugh. "Okay. Where do you want me to touch you first?"
"Here," Grace says, and brings his fingers down to—
"Holy shit, you are so fuckin' wet," Simon says completely unfiltered with his eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. He's confused when he doesn't get a response, so he cranes his neck up to figure out why Grace has suddenly gone so quiet.
His eyes are wide like he witnessed an alien crash land on Erid. Again.
"What?" Simon asks, "did I say something wrong? Isn't it good that you're so wet? You're aroused. That's good, isn't it?"
"Um. You're just—" Grace clears his throat and averts his eyes. Simon thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Did Grace's face get redder? He didn't know that was possible. "Y'know what? Never mind. Just. Um. I'm sensitive up here. If you rub here—"
"This bump, right?"
Without hesitating, Simon runs his two fingers over that bump and a debauched sound leaves Grace's throat. His thighs quiver before he forces them down onto the mattress. Like he's trying to train a dog to sit but this hypothetical dog keeps running around with no intention to listen to their owner.
In a way, Grace has no control over his body like this. All he really wants is pleasure and Simon is more than happy to deliver.
"Yeah, that's my— hah- clit," Grace grits out as Simon slots his two fingers in between the nub . It almost feels like when he was rubbing his cock yesterday in the closet, except smaller and more wet. "Ohh, that feels good."
"What, uh. Can you— how do I know when you're done?"
"I'll— Mmhm—" Grace gasps when Simon rubs a little quicker. "Orgasm. You—you'll know by the way I—I… hnnn… sound- and-and move."
"Will it feel good for you?"
"Yes, I'm already feeling amazing… Simon, you're doing amazing."
That sentence blossoms heat into Simon's stomach. His breath hitches in his throat and he strokes a little quicker with this need to give as much as he can to Grace. It's the least he can do after everything Grace has done for him. His wrist is growing tired but he doesn't care enough about that.
Because holy shit, Grace said he was doing amazing. Simon is doing good. All he wants to do is to please, to give as much as he can to Grace. And it'll never be enough because Grace has lent him the universe and he can only give back a small portion. Nothing he hands to Grace can be comparable to the things Grace has done for him.
"Shit, holy shit, I'm going to cum," Grace warns, fisting the sheets beneath him.
Simon stills like a deer caught in headlights and Grace whines so loud at the sudden lack of movement.
"What? Are you okay? What does that mean?" Simon asks frantically. Did he fuck up?
"No!" Grace impulsively grinds his hips against Simon's hand, his clit barely grazing Simon's palm. "No, please keep going. It means I'm close to orgasming. Please, oh my God, Simon, please don't stop."
Simon doesn't need to be told twice.
He brings his fingers back, dipping his fingers into Grace, and finding that sensitive nub. He fits it in between his fingers and strokes slow. Just to make sure Grace is on board with this.
"Thank you," Grace moans, throwing his head back. His hips are quivering violently, similarly to when he was on his knees on the bed yesterday, and Simon gets the idea that he's doing something right, so he goes a little harder, and—
"Ow, ow, ow," Grace recoils. Simon pulls his hand away again. The cold air of the house is already cooling the slick on his fingers.
"Fuck, I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine! You— just keep that pace. And don't go harder. The pace before was already really good," Grace says. His brows are strictly furrowed together almost like he's in pain.
Simon stares at Grace like a kicked puppy. It would make Grace laugh if he wasn't so apologetic. "I-I don't want to hurt you—"
"No, Simon, you were doing great earlier. Keep going, baby, please."
Well, with that dazed look in his eyes and that cute nickname he accidentally lets slip, how could Simon say no?
He dips his fingers into Grace, pressing his fingers against his clit again, and Grace moans so loud, Simon is sure the Eridians could probably hear it all the way on the other side of the planet.
"Oh, that's so perfect," Grace babbles, "you're so perfect, Simon, please don't stop."
Hearing Grace say his name like that makes Simon's heart skip a beat again. His stomach swoops low and he just wants to make Grace feel good, give Grace everything he's given him, and he wants to take him to the edge, make him go further and further, see him lose it even more like he's already doing now—
"Simon! Fuck, Simon—!"
Hands take fistfuls of Simon's shirt as Grace doubles over, hips jittering into Simon's hand. He's burying his face in Simon's shoulder and trembling as he humps and humps and humps, and Simon feels Grace's insides clench around his fingers like they want him to stay there.
Grace's movements still slowly, keeping his hips lowered down on the bed. Simon moves to pull his hand away, but Grace's fingers abruptly grab his wrist.
Grace doesn't look at Simon when he says, "please don't go. Just—" Grace presses his face into Simon's shoulder with a little more force, tucking his nose into the crook of Simon's neck. They fit together like a puzzle piece. "I just wanna feel full."
"Yeah, of course," Simon says simply. "Do you want my fingers deeper?"
Simon feels Grace dip his head into a nod. His wrist guides Simon's fingers down the wet folds of his cunt, where his fingers dip further in, and Simon takes the memo to gently probe his fingers deeper.
"Slow, slow, please," Grace asks, "it hurts otherwise."
"Okay," Simon says, a little strained.
He keeps his fingers slightly crooked so that he isn't jamming his fingers straight into Grace's cunt. Needs time to adjust, he presumes. He remembers seeing Grace do it yesterday too, adding only another finger once he was ready for it.
It's almost uncomfortably quiet, except for Grace's shaky breathing, the heat of his mouth against Simon's bare neck. It's just so much; he isn't sure if he can keep his head screwed on right.
When Grace complimented Simon, it felt good. So maybe if Simon does the same, maybe it would help him? He didn't realize how emotionally taxing it would be to do this. This isn't sex, but it's weirdly intimate. Nothing Simon has ever felt before.
"You sound good, Ryland."
His words feel wonky and wrong but he still says them. Anything to make sure Grace knows how much he's loved by Simon. Even if Grace only wants Simon to do this to relieve some stress. It shouldn't mean anything more to Simon and yet it does.
Oh, he wants more. He wants all of it. He wonders how good his cock would feel if it could ever replace his fingers instead. Wonders how good it would feel to slot their bodies together when they're both naked. Feel his body warmth with the intention of squeezing all that stress and tension out of his body like he's a wet rag.
Without thinking, Simon curls his finger slightly and Grace gasps. He almost pulls away like it hurts, but when Simon moves to pull out, Grace's fingers on his wrist tighten significantly.
"No, don't."
"Okay," Simon says, "want me to do it again?"
"Yes," Grace says, then swallows thickly. "But slow. Please go slow."
"I'll go as slow as you want," Simon whispers, and he curls his fingers again. Grace whimpers and the hand that was previously holding Simon's wrist takes ahold of his shirt instead. He grips like his life depends on it. "Is that okay?"
"Perfect," Grace replies just as quietly. "Just a bit— ohh, shit, it's just so much."
"Are you going to orgasm again?"
"Maybe," Grace says, and shakes his head to nuzzle further into Simon's shirt. He's so warm. And he smells so human. "I-I don't know. It just… feels so good. You feel so good, Simon."
"You too," Simon says. "It's okay. Can you just breathe for me? I'll make you feel so good. We can do this for as long as you want me to."
Grace shakes a little harder. "Thank you. Thank you."
Simon wants to tell him that he doesn't need his thanks. That his existence is more than enough for him. Instead, he says, "anything for you, Ryland."
Finally, he curls his fingers again and Grace whines from his throat and draws it out with a shaky sigh. The pads of Simon's fingers press against this weird spongy texture he doesn't think he's ever felt before. It seems like the perfect spot to pet based on the way Grace trembles every time he pulls his fingers out slightly, then curls them again.
He must be sensitive considering his earlier orgasm. It's honestly kind of cute, Simon thinks. He's making Grace fall apart with just his fingers, and Simon only has one arm!
"Siiimon," Grace drawls, and lips come in contact with the side of his neck. Simon shutters at the sudden feeling, with no idea how to really describe it other than that he's sensitive. When Grace pulls his mouth off his neck, he notices how much saliva he left behind. "Si— Simon, Simon, please—"
"Yes?" Simon asks, and fuck, his voice is rough too. He feels a little silly for becoming so undone. This is supposed to be for Grace, only for Grace. "It's okay, just breathe. I'll give you anything you want."
"—Cum, I need to cum," Grace gasps, arching his back slightly. "I wanna— ohh, please. I just need to cum."
"Want me to go harder? Slower?"
"No! No, you're perfect, just don't stop." Despite how impossible it sounds, Simon finds himself wanting to be more than perfect for Grace. It just doesn't feel like he's giving enough to him.
Despite his directions, Simon's fingers move a little slower. "Lean back. Get on your back."
Grace doesn't say anything but obliges. Simon follows his lead, leaning forward with him so that his fingers are still at the same angle. Then he pushes back in and Grace grinds down on his fingers again like he's trying to get them as deep as they can go.
"I've got you," Simon says, and he doesn't even know if he's saying it for himself or if he's saying it for Grace. "Just breathe, Ryland. Please, you're doing amazing. Just breathe. I'll be your stress reliever."
"Simon," Grace hiccups, and— oh, he's crying.
He blearily opens his eyes and meets Simon's gaze. So open and honest. Simon wants to kiss his tears away. Tears streak down his cheeks and he meets Simon's broken gaze. "Don't stop, Simon. Please don't stop—"
"Shh, shh. I've got you," Simon mumbles, "I won't stop until you want me to. I'll do whatever you want me to."
That must be what pushes Grace over the edge. His body trembles violently, his hole clenches and gushes around Simon's fingers with the attempt to pull him in deep. Like it wants him there. And unlike his clit, Simon can push his fingers almost impossibly deep. Whatever Grace wants.
"Okay, too much—"
It's a smooth glide; Simon pulling his fingers out slowly. He stares at his glistening fingers that were only just inside of Grace a few seconds ago.
Unreal.
He brings his attention back to Grace and his heart stops in his chest.
Grace's lips are red, presumably from biting, and his hips are still shaking, presumably from coming down from his orgasm. His clit (which, now looking at it, looks more like a small penis) is more visible with Grace's legs further spread out. And wow, he looks ethereal on his back like this. Like he's allowing Simon to love his body for what it is. It's different, sure, but it's so beautiful. He's beautiful.
"How are you feeling?" Simon asks and even he is taken aback by how soft his voice becomes.
"Mmhm," Grace barely warbles. Simon almost doesn't catch it, he's so quiet. He allows his eyes to flutter shut. "T'is is the part where… you give me aftercare…"
"Aftercare?" Simon tilts his head to the side in confusion. "What, do you want to cuddle?"
"Mmmmhm," Grace says, "I have to clean up, though—"
"Don't move. I'll clean you up, then we can cuddle."
Simon hands Grace a teddy bear one of the Eridian scientists gifted him as a housewarming gift before leaving for the bathroom, washing his hands, and finally noticing the erection that tents his pants.
He grunts at the sudden realization and makes the decision to ignore it like he used to. He can deal with it later, maybe when he's hiding out in his little room behind the mirror while Grace is at work.
At the end of the day, this isn't about him. This is about Grace and what he can give to Grace. Simon doesn't have anything to be stressed over when he has everything he could ever ask for, and the idea of Grace doing more than what he has already given Simon feels… wrong. He doesn't need it, so he won't ask.
Simon comes back with one of the smaller towels, dampened with water, and he begins to run it over Grace's inner thighs wet with his own slick. Grace makes a pleased noise, not dissimilar to when Simon runs his fingers in Grace's hair when they're sitting on the couch, legs tangled together, Simon reading on the tablet and Grace mindlessly tapping away at his computer.
He hasn't taken care of something in a long time. It's nice to do so.
"Water?"
Grace dips his head into a little nod and Simon stifles a laugh at the sight.
After some water in Grace's system, Simon pulls him further up on the bed and tucks him under the blankets. Simon joins him, kicking his sweats off first before he lifts the blanket and slips right under.
Their bodies slot together perfectly. Grace throws a hand over Simon's chest so Simon pulls him in closer, holding back the urge to shutter when he feels Grace's hot breath on his side. It's obscured by his shirt but it feels divine. Grace nuzzles Simon's side and sighs a breath of relief.
"M' gonna fall asleep, Si," Grace mumbles, "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Simon says. A hand reaches up to his hair and he scratches his scalp gently with dull, clean fingernails. Grace makes a small noise of appreication. "It's okay. Just go to sleep. You deserve the rest."
"Mm." Grace yawns and shifts a little before finally relaxing his body enough to sink further into Simon's comforting presence and body warmth. "Thank you."
Simon smiles. "Just go to sleep."
And with that, Grace is out like a light. Simon shortly falls asleep afterwards. The last thing he remembers roaming around in his mind was how much better he felt afterwards to know Grace was satisfied with him.
Later that night, he dreams of more than just his fingers inside of Grace.