Loving Simon Riley was easy. It came naturally. How could you not?
Throughout every single year of high school, you were seated next to him. Every project was done together. Homework was done together. Study sessions were done together. Everything was done together.
You were never invited to his house, even though you invited him to yours a thousand times.
It was really hard to distract him during class, always saying that he had to pay attention during class because he couldn't study at home. Curiosity always urged you to ask the reason for it, but you never did. Not wanting to risk the friendship by sticking your nose where you shouldn't.
Still, as the two of you started to grow; puberty passing by, changes, new problems, harder courses, harder decisions. Simon found it harder and harder to concentrate, his sight constantly trailing off to you.
He would shake his head, constantly reminding himself to stay focused. To be realistic. You were his friend and you didn't think of him in any other way.
His movements would catch your attention, your eyes lingering for just a bit more on his face, on his frustrated looking face. Lips slightly pouting and furrowed eyebrows making you smile.
Still, even as you were growing closer and closer; there was also an abyss threatening to open between the two of you. High school was ending in just a couple of months, and it didn't look like you shared the same plans after graduation.
You were worrying about university, which degree to choose, your exams, where to go and Simon… Simon kept getting to class with new bruises and cuts. And every time you tried to pry in… he would push you back.
“That looks like it hurts…” You said one morning, your forearm resting on his shoulder as you pointed at his busted lip.
“Well, aren't you a genius?” He harshly said, pushing your arm off his shoulder and making you sit straight so as not to fall.
“Well, aren't you nice?” You said back, an annoyed tone in your voice as you turned to your notebook. “No need to be a dickhe*d, I haven't done anything to you.”
“You never do anything.” He mumbled under his breath.
“I heard that.” You say, turning your head at him.
“Do you want a prize?” He said, with a fake smile on his face.
“f*ck off, Simon. Talk to me when you get the stick out of your ass.” You say standing up, picking up your things to leave.
He didn't say anything.
What he did, was knock on your window in the middle of the night. The glass shaking in the rhythm of the Jurrasic Park movie theme song. You run your blinds, coming face to face with a bloodied nose Simon. You unlocked your window, staring at him as he looked ashamed to be there.
"Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?”
“..... c’mon in.” You whispered, taking a step back to give him space to enter. He swiftly did, silent as ever, his feet barely making a sound when connecting with the ground.
You grabbed his hand, his first reaction making him pull back before relaxing. You pulled him to the bathroom down the hall, trying your best to not make a sound. Making him sit on the toilet, and opening the cupboard under the sink for clean tissues. Making him hold them when you turn. “I'm still mad, you know?”
“I know… I'm sorry, things… things have been difficult at home, I'm sorry.” He said, looking up at you as you cleaned the dried blood from his face.
“You could have just told me… vent a bit, something. That's what friends are for, you know?” You say, throwing the dirty paper in the trash can.
“It’s always friends with you, isn't it?” Simon groaned before he could register what he had just admitted. “Forget it.”
To say you were in shock was an understatement. “What?” You stopped your movements, looking at his face.
“Nothing, forget it.” He said, trying to take the new paper towel from your hand.
“No, I don't want to. What did you say, Simon?” You ask again, putting your hand away from his reach.
“I like you, okay! There, I said it. You can laugh now or whatever, I don't care.” He grumpily admitted in a whisper, standing up to his full height to drop the things on the sink and clean his own nose. And obvious blush flourishing on his face.
“N-No, I… I don't want to laugh.” You say, standing behind him, looking at the eyes of his reflection. “You… like me?”
“Yeah, no need to take the Mick out of me for it.” He groaned again, his face finally clean of the blood.
“I'm not. I'm not teasing you, I… I like you too Simon.” You whispered back, but he heard it loud and clear; turning around in a blink.
“What?” He asked, too loud to be hiding in the bathroom making you shush at him and making him cover his mouth with his hand. “Sorry… but what? You? You like me? Why?”
“What you mean why?” You ask, chuckling softly, your hand resting over his chest as his slides from his mouth, his hand catching yours from pulling away. “I just do…”
You notice his gaze travel from your eyes to your lips and the moment you catch his intentions, you feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Simon looking just as flustered.
Still, you look up at him puckering your lips slightly and before you can regret it, Simon does the same; pushing his lips forward and closing his eyes tightly before crashing his mouth against yours.
It's just a second. Maybe even less. But it's enough to have the butterflies in your stomach growing wild, your face more and more red as you realise you just gave your first kiss to your crush.
Simon feels just the same, like his face is about to explode from how hard he's blushing, like everything was worth it, like getting his nose broken was a good thing… his nose!
“f*ck!” He whispers, clutching his nose when the high from the kiss comes down and he realises he smashed it against your face just now.
You chuckle at him, handing him more paper when you notice the blood running again. You want to kiss him again. And again. Until you lose count. So you wait patiently for him to pull his hands back.
“Young lady, do you mind explaining what's going on?” Your father's voice makes you jump, taking a step away from Simon. “Simon, what are you doing here?”
“Dad, Simon just-” You try to come up with an excuse before Simon cuts you off.
“Sorry, Sir… I, well. My dad and I had a little… disagreement and I didn't have where to spend the night, I… I'm sorry, I'll leave, I don't want to cause problems.” He quickly says, throwing the blood-stained paper towel on the trash can with the rest.
“I'm not throwing you to the street, Simon…” Your dad answered, Simon wondered for a second why he wouldn't when his own father had no problem doing it. “Just… let's go to sleep, I'll give you a sleeping bag.”
Simon and you look at each other for a second before turning away embarrassed of getting caught. You are the first to walk out of the bathroom, Simon diligently behind you turning the lights off.
When you enter your room your dad is setting the sleeping bag on the floor, stealing a pillow from your bed and laying blankets on top. “That's one of my pyjama trousers, sleeping with jeans is not too comfy. Go change.”
He throws the pyjama at him, Simon nods and makes his way back to the bathroom. Once out, your father turns to you as you slip inside of your bed.
“He better not get out of the sack, you hear me, young lady? I'm trusting you two to not make anything stupid, you are too young for those things, am I clear?” He asks, pointing his finger at you.
“Yes, Dad.” You say, dragging the vowel.
He hums, before walking out, sliding past Simon and telling him to behave too. Simon enters the room, closing the door behind him and sliding on the sleeping bag. You lean over the edge of the bed, leaning your head on your hand as you look at him. “Comfy?”
“Very much, yeah.” He says as he shimmies himself into the blankets.
You chuckle at him, slightly raising your blanket just to see his reaction. “You don't want to join me?”
He looks at you, utter disgust on his face. “Share a bed with you? What are you planning to do to me?” He asks, covering up to his face with the blankets. Only uncovering his face to say: “whor*”
You slap his arm making him laugh, and he grabs your hand with yours. “I'm playing, I'm playing. Let's just go to sleep, I don't want your dad to kick me out.”
“Alright, alright… prude.” You say, teasing him back making him groan as you laugh.
The next morning, when your mom came to wake you up for school, she didn't say anything about your arm hanging from the bed just to hold Simon's.
But this confession, the hand holding, the furtive little pecks here and there, was not enough to fix the abyss pulling apart. Because the argument was not the reason for it, it was something else and you only found out on your graduation night.
When you were sitting on the curb, having dinner from the first fast food place you both could find; still dressed in your fancy clothes and picking the soda cup off the ground.
“I think I'm gonna go into math” You suddenly said.
“Math?” Simon asked, laughing softly.
You nodded. “Yeah… that or physics.” You said
“You are such a nerd.” He said laughing, earning a kick to his feet.
“Shut up! Not my fault you can't count.” You laughed back. “And you? What are you picking?”
The smile on his face quickly turned sour, disappearing into a frown. “I'm actually enlisting.”
“Enlisting? Like… like in the military?” You asked, looking at him even though he was looking forward.
“Yeah… exactly like that.” He said, nodding, still not looking at you.
“Why? I thought you hated it, like… Simon, why would you join the military? You don't -” You started to say, food resting on its wrapper on the ground.
“You said it yourself, I can't even count.” He said, dropping his food too. “At least this way I can be useful… I could actually protect somebody.”
“That's not true, Si. You know I was just playing, you are smart. Don't say that.” You say, trying to catch his gaze.
“I barely passed the exams, and… and I already signed in, anyway.” He admitted, looking at his hand.
You remained silent for a second, switching to look forward too. “So that's it, no? No point in telling you my mind when you're already in, not that you seemed to care.”
“That's not it, don't get it twisted.” He says, trying to grab your hand to make you look at him. “Love…”
“Don't ‘love’ me, Simon!” You say standing up. “When were you even going to tell me? Were you even going to? Or were you planning on just disappearing like nothing?”
“I was going to tell you, I promise.” He said standing up. “I just didn't want to ruin tonight for you.”
“Well, now is too late!” You exclaim, turning around so he cannot see the tears pooling in your waterline.
“Love, c’mon…” He whined, walking behind you. “You are thinking too hard, they are not throwing me into the battlefield in a week. I'll train, I'll become a good one, I'll get strong, I'll protect you!”
“You can't protect me if you are dead! And what do you need to protect me from, Simon?! Why are you so obsessed with protecting?!” You say, still not turning as you walk towards your house.
He called your name, making you turn to look at him. His heart clenched in pain at the sight of the tears threatening to fall from your glistering eyes but too stubborn to do so. “You don't… you don't get it.”
You sniffle before talking. “You are right, Simon. I don't. Good luck to the military.”
That was the last thing you said to him, venom dripping from your voice as you did. Before disappearing into your house slamming the door behind you.
He drifted a week later, without another word being spoken between the two of you. And even though he didn't live a day without thinking of you, he never spoke to you until 18 years later.
He kept tabs on you, always making sure you were fine, alive and happy. And to benefit his selfish mind, unmarried.
“We are in the middle of f*cking Manchester, Laswell! We cannot simply stay in the open without risking civilians' lives! We need somewhere to hide!” His captain's voice barked into his phone, Laswell's response not loud enough for Simon to hear.
The last time Simon set foot in Manchester was to bury his family, his current house far from a place that brings him such painful memories. And far from you, to keep you safe.
Nothing made Simon feel so much like he made the right choice of cutting every kind of contact with you as when he went to your house, his brother's blood still on his hand, to see you watching TV calmly in your living room. Perfectly unaware of the massacre that had just happened, perfectly unaware of the man standing outside of your window.
He knows your house is just a couple of blocks away, moving out of your parents' house a couple of years after finishing university. He could visit you, drop by, but it is the middle of the night and he is working… no reason to go to you.
“We are on our own, Laswell can't fly us back until the morning. She said they seem to have lost us, so technically we are not being followed so we are safe, we… Let's find some coffee shop or something.” Price says, putting his phone away.
Kyle groans beside him. “I'm f*ckin’ starving… and peeing myself.” The sergeant complained.
“Just take a wee on the bush, Garrick.” Soap grunted at him, exhausted after the strain of the mission. “I just want to f*cking sleep, I'm gonna pass out…”
“Kids! The bunch of you!” Price barks again. The prolonged deployment clearly wearing down all of them. “We cannot just go to a random house, knock a secret code on the door and be let into a warm bed and hot food. So coffee and a chair is all we are getting if we get lucky.”
Except they do. Because even though you haven't heard from him in years, he knows that you will open your door to him.
“I know someone who will let us sleep in their house.” Simon said, hands resting on his vest.
“You?” Soap asks, looking at him from the curb he is sitting down on. “Who?”
“A friend.” Simon says after a pause, taking his phone out; looking for your number hidden behind the ‘IT Support’ name of your contact.
“.... you got other friends?” Soap asks with his eyebrow raised.
“Shut the f*ck up, Johnny.” He grumbles back, his phone dialling. For a moment he expects you to not pick it up, but then he hears your sleepy voice. “Hello?”
“Hey… This is Simon. Riley, Simon Riley.” He says, his fingers pulling at the flap of his trousers pockets.
Gaz looks at Price, only to be met with the same confused expression. That's not how you talk to a friend.
You take even longer to answer, being just woken up not helping with thinking quickly. “Simon? ….Si? Where have you- What are you- Why did you- What? Simon, what? I don't-”
“I know, I know, love.” The nickname slipped past his lips like a second nature. “It's a long story, I'm sorry, I know I own you a long, long, very long explanation, listen-”
“Simon, it's 3:00 in the morning, this is…” he can hear you sigh on the phone. “I don't think this is the conversation to have over the phone.”
“That's actually why I called, I'm… I'm back in town for a little, do you… do you think I could sleep at your house tonight? You know I wouldn't ask if I had another choice…” Simon says, biting his glove, unable to bite his nails.
You sigh again. “You haven't changed, have you? I'll send you my location, I no longer live with my parents.” Simon knows. “Don't take too long, I need to wake up early.”
Before Simon can answer, you have already hung up. He puts his phone away, a smile on his face when it buzzes knowing you sent him your address; and he turns to the expecting men.
“C’mon, all set.” It’s all Simon says, starting to walk without looking back.
“Are you going to explain?” It’s Gaz the one who's brave enough to ask. Simon simply looks at him before answering with a deadpan expression on his face. “No.”
Meanwhile, you stay lying on your bed, wondering what to do next. You certainly don't know what to expect next, it's been a lifetime since the last time you saw him.
The scrawny lanky kid that kept talking about protecting you, about becoming strong, about being better… has he been kicked out? Was he simply kicked? Was he injured? Why was he back?
You missed his family's funeral, no one really knows when it was carried out and no one saw him when it happened. He simply vanished a second time.
He doesn't give you much time to contemplate about what can be the reason for his visit before you hear the knocking on your door. You finally kick the covers off, walking to the door yawning; but the sleep gets kicked off your body when you look out the peephole.
Four massive men standing outside of your door, barely able to fit in the steps in front of it. Obvious guns hanging from the straps of their vest, but any of that it’s as terrifying as the skull mask looking right at you as he could see through the door.
You can't even see his eyes, only the back voids of shadows; the street lights behind him only hide his face more. He is the tallest, you can't even see the top of his head, and his shoulders are so wide you doubt he will fit through the door.
Neither of these men is Simon and suddenly you just want to step back into your bed. But the man with the skull mask raises his hand again, and then he knocks on the door; the Jurrasic Park movie theme song sounding loud and clear.
You hear laughs outside, a gruff voice complaining to shut up, and you open the door, the short chain the only thing keeping it from opening completely.
The masked man turns to you at the sound, everyone's eyes on you but you can't peel your eyes from him. You hear the alarm bells in your head telling you to close the door, too many stories that start with a dumb decision just like this one.
But you are not the only one unable to move, Simon's eyes are locked on you. He sees the changes, how you have grown older just like him, but you have just grown breathtakingly beautiful. It has his heart beating on his ears and butterflies turning in his stomach.
Butterflies? At his grown age?
But he can't help it, not when your lips look so soft, your hair frames your face like the most perfect frame in a museum, not when your eyes look so… worried? Afraid? You have never looked at him scared before.
He noticed then how you are almost hugging yourself, using your arms to pull distance and how you frantically look at his face. What are you looking for? What's wrong with the mask?
…
He quickly pulls the mask off of his head, realising his mistake and seeing your face relax when you identify the dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead.
He is Simon still.
You breathe more easily once he takes it off, not completely relaxed at the image of the still unknown men standing right behind him. But you know him or used to, and he is your Simon.
“Sorry, it is… part of the uniform.” He says, a tone of voice any of the men have heard him use before. You look at them, clearly not wearing the mask and catching his lie. He ignores the look you send him, a bashful smile on his face. “Can we come in?”
He leans his body forward, quickly stopping when he notices you move the door closer and look at the man behind him. “They are my team, it's okay, I'll explain it later. It's alright, they are Price, Kyle and Johnny.”
Calling it an awkward situation would be an understanding, when the guy at the back with the mohawk waves at you like a child you sigh; closing the door to undo the chain and open it back up to let them in.
If they wanted to murder you the door was not stopping them.
“Please, c'mon in.” You say, a slight tone of annoyance too difficult to miss in your tone. “You can leave your shoes on the rack, and well… everything else.”
They do a quick work of their shoes, resting them on the rack leaving a healthy space with yours; the dirt from them remaining away from yours. They take their bags, vests and belts next; their size not shrinking in the slightest.
Simon simply remains massive, his t-shirt stretched out over the wide span of his shoulders, growing looser around his waist, hiding under his trousers that are just as stretch-out over his asscheeks and massive thighs. It’s then, when you are staring at his eyes that one of them talks to you, catching your attention.
“I'm really sorry, but can I please use your bathroom?” Is Gaz the one asking, a tiny silly dance of stepping on one foot and then the other as he awaits your response.
You nod quickly, pointing to the door of your bathroom. “Yeah, that one. The light switch is outside.” He quickly moves past you, making you smile when you hear him dramatically groan as you hear water splashing.
“Garrick, close the door!” One of the other men says, the one with the funny-looking beard. “Apologies, he is usually better potty trained; but it's been a long deployment.”
You lift a hand waving it slightly, letting him know that it is okay. Simon can see how you look at him from the corner of your eyes, still awaiting the explanation. Until the loud noise of a stomach rumbling with hunger makes everyone whip their head to the man that waved at you before; a hand on his abdomen and a little coy smile on his face.
“Are you hungry?” You ask as if the sound erupting from him wasn't an obvious sign.
“It's okay, I'll live, don't worry.” He quickly says, not wanting to abuse anymore of the hospitality.
You stare at him, unsure, until his stomach screams again and you move to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Any allergies?”
You get a group “no” as an answer before you make quick work of the cooking. Simon walks in, coming to your side and asking. “Can I help?”
You shake your head. “It's okay, go wash your hands. The rest too.” He nods quickly, instructing your orders to the rest as they quickly move back to the bathroom.
You throw the premade garlic bread on the oven, throwing an obscene amount of pasta noodles into boiling water as you work on the sauce on a pan. You already struggle to measure pasta for yourself, how do you measure for four men built like a brick house?
You don't even bother to ask if the other three are hungry, if you are getting the kitchen dirty again at least make it worth it. The oven dings, throwing the bread back onto the plate with your bare hands quickly. You leave the plate on the counter, throwing the noodles on the pan; almost spilling out of it and mixing it quickly.
Grabbing the plates from the overhead cupboard and splitting the pasta into the four plates. Throwing a fistful of shredded cheese for balance on each.
You pick two of the plates, turning to leave them on the tiny table in your kitchen; the plates almost fall from your hands when you jump, not expecting the four men sitting and waiting at the table.
“Bloody hell, almost sh*t my pants.” You mumble as you put the plates in the middle of the table, letting them pick their favourites. You turn twice more to pick the rest of the plates, and once everyone is served you sit down too. “Hope you like it, sorry if it's too poor.”
The one who was the hungriest looks at you like you just insulted his mother, being fair; after living on MRE for months, a warm plate of food is priceless.
You smile when they eat happily, making you wonder if you did too little. You let them eat, standing up to go out of the kitchen; but Simon grabs your hand as you walk past him. You turn to look at him, catching how he swallows hardly the half-chewed bite, before asking. “Where’re you going?”
“To get the beds ready.” You say, smiling when he offers his help again, refusing it. He lets you go, his eyes glued to you as you walk.
“So… a friend.” Johnny says, moving his eyebrows up and down. “I think Sisi has a crush…”
Simon turns to him, his usual stoic expression back on his face. “Shut up… We… we used to be together when we were kids, that's all.”
“Wait… She's your ex?” Gaz asks, looking at the hall where you just disappeared.
“Lower your voice, will you?!” Simon shouts in a whisper. “It was 18 years ago, it doesn't… it doesn't even count.”
“It counts if it has you blushing.” Johnny says with a singing tone.
“I'm not blushing.” Simon grunts, but he rests his head on his hand, trying to discreetly cover his red ears, making both sergeants chuckle.
The sound of you puffing as you lay down on the sofa has him turning his head, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees you lay a blanket over you. He stands up, walking to you; the three men at the table exchanging a knowing look.
“Hey, lovie…” Simon says as he leans over the sofa, smiling when he sees you yawning. “Long day?”
You nod at him, rubbing your eyes and looking at him. “And a long night… will two beds be enough for the four of you?”
“Why are you sleeping here, luv? You should be in your bed…” He says, unconsciously moving your hair out of your face.
“Because any of you would fit in the sofa… besides, it’s easier to clean the sheets than the sofa. No offense but you are all stinky.” You say, digging your pointer finger into the muscle of his ribs making him chuckle.
“Sorry for invading your house like this.” He says, his hand moving to caress your cheek with his thumb.
“That's okay… my doors will always be open for you, Simon.” You say looking up at him, your hand moving to rest on his arm. “Even when you come back looking unrecognisable.”
“What do you mean unrecognisable? I look exactly the same.” He says, co*cking his head with a fake confused look on his face making you chuckle.
“You look like you have eaten the Simon I used to know, have you come back to eat me now?” You ask without thinking before talking. “Wait, no, that came out weird.”
Simon barks a laugh, making you laugh again as he peels your hand from his arms letting it fall; an offended look on his face as he mutters. “whor*.” Earning himself a slap on his arm just like 18 years ago.
Still sitting at the table, the three men smile to themselves. Seeing a new face of their lieutenant, leaning over the woman and almost waving his imaginary tail like a happy pup.
It's hours later, after they all finished eating and you told them to leave the dishes on the sink and that you would clean it in the morning.
After you told them where the rooms were, Johnny jumped at Gaz to share the room with him.
After they all said goodnight to you and went to sleep.
It's after all that, that you get woken up by the sound of dishes moving on the sink; sitting up to look at Simon in the kitchen looking at you and groaning when he realizes he woke you up.
“I told you to leave them, Simon.” You say, voice hoarse with sleep as you stand up.
“It isn't fair, you already cooked.” He says, turning to keep cleaning them. “Plus, I couldn't sleep.”
“Why?” You say as you walk up to him, sitting on the kitchen table.
“Price snores like an old car going up a hill, and he is way too close to ignore.” He says making you smile. “And I didn't like you being down here alone, the door’s too close.”
He closes the tap when he is done, grabbing the towel to dry his hands as he turns to you. You sigh at his words, rubbing your eyes. “You really haven't changed, have you?”
He steps closer, standing between your legs and resting his hands on each side of your body. “Can't say I have, no.”
You stare at his face, at some point after you fall asleep he must have washed his face, the black paint that covered his eyes before now gone. And when you lock your eyes onto his, you realise he is staring back.
You let your arms rest around his waist, leaning your chin on his chest and looking up at him as his hands rest on your back. “You still need to explain yourself, Simon.”
“I know.” He says, his eyes taking in every spot on your face, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, the way you wet your lips; so he doesn't miss the way the tear rolls down your cheek. His hand quickly moving up to dry it with his thumb. “Hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying, love?”
“I thought you died, Simon… I thought you died hating me, because I was an asshole that didn't want to listen to you.” You admit, rubbing your eyes with your hands to hide the tears. “I was afraid of something happening to you and losing you because of it, and I was an asshole that pushed you away, I'm sorry.”
“No, no, no, love.” He says shaking his head, his long-ignored heart cracking at the sight of your tears. He hugs you, making you bury your face on his chest as he leans his own on yours, his own tears threatening to spill. “I should have told you better, I should have talked to you the day after, or anytime in the last 18 years. Something. I was the asshole, love, I should have done better.”
He feels you shake your head, pushing back to look up at him from under. And god damn if he can't feel his heart beat at the sight of your wet face. “You are not, we… we were kids, it was no one's fault.” You say wiping your face with the back of your hand. “We were kids.”
“We are not kids anymore.” Simon whispers, his hands moving to cup your face as your hand moves back to his waist. You can see on his face that he is waiting, for a sign, a word, a something, to let him know that it is okay to go ahead.
Is like all those years ago, in your parent's house’s bathroom; when you had your first kiss. But so different at the same time. He is not the young boy with the broken nose, he is the grown man with the bump on his nose from where it never healed.
And instead of just pushing your lips out, waiting for him to move, you lift your hand, catching the dog tags hanging from his neck with your finger and pulling him down.
There it is.
The sign he needed.
So he leans down, your face still between his hands, and softly presses his lips against yours.
His warm dry lips, dancing along your salty wet ones. Butterflies in his stomach doing twirls and crawling up the walls. Your hand on his waist digging your fingertips pulling him closer, your tongue probing at his lips and Simon groaning against your lips when he finally tastes your mouth.
It stops being an innocent kiss, not with the way his tongue pushes inside of your mouth, his hands moving down to your hips to pull you closer, his thighs so wide you let one of your legs between his. He groans on the kiss, his fingertips digging into the softness of your body making you groan back at him.
It’s when you move your leg, reaching his groin and causing him to grind his hardening aching dick against your thigh that he pulls back; suddenly unsure of how far you want to take it. “Sorry, I didn't mean to-”
You slap his chest, grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt as you do and pulling him close again. “Don't you run away from me again, Simon.” And with the look of absolute lust and hunger in your face, he can't help it but crash his lips with yours again, your legs circling around his waist and your hand pulling his face to keep him close.
Every inhibition, every second thought, every doubt, easily kicked out of the equation. Everything getting replaced by the need to feel the other, closer, harder, and nothing else but the other.
The only thing that can be heard inside of the kitchen is the heavy breathing of both of you and the filthy sound of your tongues dancing. His tongue reaches every corner of your mouth, your hums reaching the back of his throat directly. He pulls back once again, resting his forehead in your as he sucks in a breath. “Are you sure you wan-”
“f*cking hell, Simon. Yes, yes I wanna.” You chuckle looking at him with a beaming smile on your face.
“Thank goodness for that.” He says stepping back, helping you on your feet and lifting your shirt; groaning at seeing your naked form. He leans down, his lips catching your hard nipple and sucking it in making you hiss as you pet his head.
His wide tongue moves flat over your ribs making you shudder at the feeling, using your hand to lean into the counter. “How have grown so f*cking beautiful, sweetheart? I should have come back so long ago, come back to you, my sweet girl.” He slowly turns you around, moving his lips as he kisses up your back; goosebumps erupting as he moves higher, kissing up your shoulder and behind your ear, kissing your ear and biting your lobule.
His massive hands rest on your hips as he grinds his own, making you feel his hardness against the flesh of your ass making you whine in anticipation. His hands move, his thumbs getting under the waistband of your shorts and your underwear; pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles. His lips move lower again, following the line of your column down your back, you sigh at the feeling, leaning forward and letting your body lean on the counter.
After the torturous couple of minutes, Simon takes to come face to face with your c*nt, you don't have to worry about the man teasing you or making you wait. Not with how desperate he is to feel your taste melt into his mouth.
So that's what he does, as soon as his knees touch the ground he's pushing his face forward, burying his face between your folds. He slides his tongue down, pushing your hood back to suck your pearl making you moan as your hips buckle at the hard suck making him chuckle.
He kisses your skin, all around your folds, in circles that grow smaller and smaller as he gets closer to your needy cl*t. He kisses it last, a soft kiss just like he kissed your lips just a minute ago before the kiss turns nastier; tongue moving out of his mouth to rub it against it, drool falling from the tip of his tongue, sucking your cl*t softly making you moan his name as you bite your lip.
He moves back, licking up the juices that have spilled from your entrance, drinking them up as he moves closer to its source, slipping his tongue right inside making your walls grasp his wet muscle and pushing it deeper. He groans at the feeling, at feeling your tightness around his tongue, at the taste invading his mouth, making his taste buds fall in love with it, and at the delirious sounds falling from your lips.
Your hands move back, looking for him and grabbing his hand resting on the side of your hip while his other hand pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself deeper. Moaning loudly and shamelessly at the way his face glides easily against your glossy folds with your arousal.
The thumb from the hand on your cheek moves closer, slowly sinking into you making your mouth fall open on an O shape. His mouth moves up again on your entrance, thrusting his tongue deep along his finger into you, making you mewl at the slight stretch.
But the restraint of his hard co*ck against his zipper has him struggling to focus on how pretty his name sounds when it falls from your lips, unconsciously looking for friction and grinding his boner against the back of your leg.
The hand that is not holding yours moves lower, undoing his belt with it and his button to keep his raging hard-on covered only by his struggling briefs. You look down between your legs, catching the way the angrily red tip of his aching dick pops out of the confines of his underwear when he thrusts forward.
Your head moves back up as you moan when you feel him switch his thumb with his index and middle finger. It makes you arch your back, slightly moving back to meet the movements of his wrist. The squelching sound of your c*nt sucking his fingers in only urging him forward, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further.
He can taste your arousal dripping down on his welcoming tongue, his fingers impossibly sticky with your juices. He peels his face away, moving back to stand and using his hand on your hip to push you back up, hiding his face on your neck to whisper. “Are you going to let me in, hm? Are you going to open your legs for me just like you open your door, sweet girl? Gonna let me repay you f*cking you silly? Are you gonna let me get up to here?” He asks, resting his hand on your lower stomach on the last question and when he pulls his fingers back you can't help but whine, missing the feeling as you part your legs.
“Please…”
“Please what, darling?” He asks, kissing your neck sloppily as he wraps his hand around his shaft, pulling it off of his underwear and rubbing his leaking tip against your cl*t.
“Please… f*ck me, Simon, please.” You whine, looking up at him from over your shoulder when he pulls his head back.
He hums, satisfied with your response and probing at your soaking entrance with his bulbous tip; rolling his hips to fill you, stretching your walls to accommodate the girth of his member. He kisses your lips once more, not caring about the awkward angle of your neck as he does so, making you moan inside of his mouth as he pushes forward; groaning when he finally bottoms out. “That's a good girl. Taking me in so well… f*ck, you fit like a glove, love… chocking my dick so tightly, sh*t…”
Your hips are pushed against the counter, his strong arms holding your upper body; almost floating with how tight he is holding you to his chest. The roll of his hips is slow, making you feel every vein and crease of his rigid co*ck as he drags against your walls clamping down on it, only for him to push it back inside making you mewl as you feel it hit deeper than you have ever felt.
And even though he is lifting you, you can still feel the weight of his body behind you. The strength being held back in the way his muscles tense under his skin, the control of his body with how calculated his movements are and the way he seems to have already lost himself with the way the praises and promises constantly fall from his lips.
“You have always been so f*cking good to me… I always loved you more than anyone else on this bloody planet, love. You always treated me so nice, f*ck!” He moans into your neck. “I'm gonna pay you back, sweetheart. For every kind word, for every kiss, for every f*cking everything. f*cking hell…” It’s such a raspy moan, that you can feel the vibrations of his chest when the deep voice leaves his mouth.
He leans forward, letting you rest your body over the counter as his hands move lower, caressing the sides of your body as they come to rest on your hips. He admires your body for a second, before coming down to press his chest against your back again.
His hips push against yours as tight as he physically can, the light push of his body enough to make you land your feet over his; making Simon fight his inner urge to move his feet only to make you sink lower.
He moves his hands towards yours, keeping your palm flat against the surface of the counter as he interlocks his fingers with yours. Mouth open kisses on your nape making your brain turn fuzzy as his length keeps hitting again and again the lovely spot that has your knees buckling.
“Simon, please… harder, please.” You whine, needing him to give you more, to touch you more, to move more, faster, deeper, harder, anything, but more. And when Simon chuckles deeply behind you, making you realise how something switches on him.
He peels himself back from your back, carefully brushing your hair back into a make-do ponytail; making sure to braid his finger between the locks of your hair. “The Princess wants more, doesn't she?” He whispers against your ear making you bite your lip in anticipation. “Well… anything she wants, I'll get it for her.”
He leans back once again, except this time he doesn't let go of your hair making you arch your back. His hips rolling once more, his painfully hard co*ck sliding easily between your fold drenched in your arousal; his pace slowly rising making your breathing turn into whiny moans as the tip of his dick keeps pushing the breath out of your lungs with each thrust.
But your moans are not the only ones in the kitchen, his low moans slowly growing deeper as your c*nt sucks his dick in, groaning when he sees the white creamy ring of your arousal form around the base of his shaft, pushing him to keep going. To keep thrusting deep, fast and hard even when he feels like he is going to combust at any moment.
He only worries when he feels you clench around him, worrying about missing your face of ecstasy as you finally come around his shaft. So he turns you around, not even pulling out and twisting you around making you look at him with wide eyes.
“I don't want to miss the way you look as you cream my co*ck, doll. I just know you are going to sing like the prettiest of the birds, love.” His hands move to rest on the back of your head, keeping your eyes locked onto him as his dick keeps drilling into your crying c*nt, begging for the release you so badly need.
It can be heard loud and clear the sound of his skin slapping against yours, a harmony of moans falling from the two of you, but still, there is a whiny tone to your moans that rubs Simon the wrong way. “What is it, love?” He whines back, half-mocking you. “What does my pretty girl needs?”
“Simon!” You moan, making him close his eyes to make sure it was engraved into his memories the sound of his name being moaned by you. “Touch me, please.”
“How can I say no, hm? When you ask so nicely, sweetheart.” He says as he moves a hand to rub your cl*t with his thumb, though little circles sending shockwaves up your back. “That's what you wanted? For me to play with your tiny little cl*t, hm? Such a greedy girl…”
“f*ck, Simon, yes!” You moan loudly when you finally feel your org*sm grow closer. “Please, don't stop, Simon, please… I'm so close, please don't stop.”
And Simon could get shot in the back of the head right now and his body would keep moving, nothing could make him stop right now. Not with the way your thighs are pulling him closer and your c*nt is sucking him in.
He feels you try to throw your head back, eyes closing as you open your mouth on a silent cry. Your org*sm hits you like a bucket of warm honey being spilled over you, sticking every fibre of your body and making you hold onto Simon as your strength leaves your body.
You still manage to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper, your mind still buzzing with your climax and little white dots still on the margins of your vision.
Your legs are not the only ones clinging to him, Simon groans, furrowing his eyebrows as he feels every rib of your velvety walls wrap around his length like a vice; making him whine when he finally manages to pull out. His heavy balls pressed flush against your spasming c*nt as thick ropes of his sticky white seed spur over the soft skin of your tummy. A puddle of his spend threatening to spill over the sides of your body with your laborious breathing; wrapping his hand around the base of his twitching co*ck to milk every single droplet left inside.
A groan leaving his throat at the sight of your soft body, all pliant and shattered by the pleasure of the org*sm still flowing through your veins as his essence lays calmly over your soft skin.
He bends down, collecting the salty substance with his tongue, keeping it inside of his mouth just for the second it takes for his lips to reach yours; spilling it over your tongue. The taste of his seed coating your taste buds makes you moan at the feeling. He pulls back, smiling and hiding his face on your chest as he chuckles realising what just went down.
Then, weighing out the options and to prevent the awkwardness to take over the situation, he moves back; letting you rest on the counter as he picks the rag he used to dry his hands before wiping the remaining of his spend from your stomach.
“I used that rag to dry my dishes, Simon…” You say looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“What? Afraid my cum will end up in your mouth?” He chuckles when you slap his hand. He finishes wiping it off and helping you get dressed again, easing you down the counter and walking hand in hand with you towards the sofa.
He lays down, pulling you on top of him, resting your head on his chest and he throws the blanket back over your body. “You still haven't explained much, you know…”
“I know… I need to order my thoughts beforehand, though… there is just so much I have to tell you… but let's just sleep for now, alright?.” Simon says, petting your head as you yawn while nodding..
“You won't disappear again, will you?” You ask, your eyelids falling close with exhaustion but still awake enough to feel his arms tighten around your body. “No. Not again, love.”
The next morning is a bit of a blur, Simon gets shaken beside you waking you up too. “Helo is picking us up in 20 minutes, get dressed.” A gruff voice says over you that you associate with Price.
Simon groans rubbing his eyes as he stands up, letting you lay on the sofa for a bit more before walking towards the entry. You frown when he doesn't walk to the kitchen, realising in that moment that Simon didn't even take his clothes off last night, his face, hands and dick the only skin you saw.
You sit up, watching how he puts his boots on; swiftly putting back on the vest and the belt, his mask hanging from the back pocket of his pants.
The three men are already around, any of them seemed too bothered by catching Simon sleeping with you on the sofa. Simon walks towards you once more, sitting down next to you and holding your hand on his lap. “You have my number now… I'll call you as soon as I touch ground, okay?” He asks, his other hand brushing your hair out of your face.
You smile at him nodding, and before you know it, the loud noises of a helicopter touching ground come from outside your door. You stand, as Price opens the door, waving at the pilot and turning to you, shaking your hand making you smile at the formalities.
“Thank you for your help, love. I'll make sure you get something sent as a proof of gratitude” He says, with an honest smile on his face.
“There really is no need.” You answer, moving to let Soap walk.
“I think she would prefer Simon to deliver it to her personally instead, Cap!” Johnny says as he chuckles to himself, Price slapping his arm as he passes.
Gaz chuckles to himself, trying to cover it as a cough as he passes to walk after Soap. “Thank you for the dinner and the bed, lass. Nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll hear from you soon.”
Simon rolls his eyes at the sergeant, not a droplet of mean feelings in the gesture before he turns to you once you are alone, an apologetic look on his face. “I think we don't have to worry about them hearing us last night.”
“Nah, they probably didn't, don't worry.” He says, the two of you chuckling again. Until you look up to him, your hand resting on his chest. “This is not the last time I will be seeing you, right, Simon?”
“No, love. A week, two tops before I'm coming back to you.” He says, kissing your forehead and resting his over yours. “Will you wait for me?”
“I have waited 18 years and you are asking if I can wait two weeks?” You ask and he nods, completely serious about his words. “I'll wait another 18 years for you, Simon Riley.”
He sighs as if he was afraid of other possible answers.
“You won't have to wait that long.”
“I better not.’
“You won't… I promise.”
“See you in two weeks, Simon.”
“See you, love.’
And with that, his lips kissed you one last time, before rolling his mask over his face and walking to the helicopter. Waving at you before closing the door and disappearing into the sky until the next time you saw him.
Half a life living with him, followed by half a life living without him; and now, after all those years, finally the promise of spending the rest of your life living it with him by your side, like the time apart never happened.
Like Simon Riley never left your side.
And with the promise that he would never do it again.
