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Betty checked up on Simon a lot. From a distance usually; it was easier that way. Relatively speaking.
…nothing about seeing him like that was easy.
Still, at least from far away she didn’t have to hear the crazed ramblings of a once-brilliant mind. Knowing how twisted her partner had become, a slave to his own id…it was unbearable to think about let alone be around.
Spying on him was fine. A compromise between her non-stop longing to see him and her revulsion to his curse. It soothed enough anxiety to keep her functional without causing any more.
That was the idea, anyhow. Tonight? The Ice King was AWOL.
Betty scowled. The castle lights were on, so what gives? Twirling one finger in the air, a spyglass formed from nothing and dropped into her waiting lap. She was still getting used to unconscious knowledge of all Magic Man’s powers rattling around the back alleys of her brain, only accessible if she closed her eyes and let herself stumble into things.
Her sweet, cautious Simon would’ve hated that. But she’d always been more of a results-oriented person (read: impulsive).
Peering through the telescope (and ignoring the random tacky magenta residue splattered all over the base) she searched and found…nada. Zilch. A goose egg. Just a couple of penguins wandering around. Where was he?
Then, a voice came from behind her and damn near scared her out of her own skin. A familiar voice.
“Heya pretty lady, lookin’ for some company?”
She jerked to look at him but he was too fast. Before she could turn her head all the way, everything went cold.
* * * * *
“It’s freeee-ziiiing!”
Betty stomped in place and swung her arms, anything to keep the blood flowing. It’d been a phenomenal evening, dinner followed by bumming around the history museum downtown until the staff (in polite exasperation) had to kick them out. It was fine though; both of them had been there so many times individually that each could’ve walked the place blindfolded.
“Sorry,” Simon said again. Like it was his fault the temperature was gunning for a record low. “Are you sure you don’t want my coat?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” she said, still dancing in place as she peered up and down the street in search of the bus. Something had to be wrong; the roads were slick, maybe some sort of accident? Unappealing as the idea was, she might have to suck it up and walk back to her apartment on campus. Simon would almost definitely insist on walking her home though, which would be nice. Truth be told she was reluctant to let go of him even for a night.
Besides. Once they got back to her place maybe she could talk him into staying. Her roommate would be there, sadly, but…
As if reading her mind, Simon cleared his throat. His cheeks were red from more than just the cold and his eyes were busy looking at everything around them but her.
“Ah, well… My place isn’t too far. If you’d like, you could, ah, well-”
He was so sweet sometimes that it floored her. How the hell had nobody snatched him up yet?
“I’d love to spend the night with you,” she said quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. But it was a plunge she was ready, eager, and willing to take.
Simon’s eyes got wide; his blush got deeper. A little of his shyness rubbed off on her, making her look away as she reached to take his hand. He quickly tangled his fingers with hers, their palms slotting together like they’d been made for each other.
“I mean, I’m ready for that if you are,” she added.
He smiled so warm and bright that she forgot about the cold.
* * * * *
Betty woke up on her carpet, floating a couple of feet above the glistening icy floor. Her hat was on the floor next to a row of icy prison bars that made her scoff in disgust. Great, just fantastic.
Angrily, she got up and snatched up her hat, dusting it off before planting it firmly on her frizzed-out hair. She had things to do: better ones than sitting around here playing princess.
The word (her old nickname) echoed around her head in Simon’s voice and brought a wave of overwhelmed grief with it. Stupid sadness. Roughly and angrily, she wiped at the tears suddenly filling up her eyes.
“Woah hey now, don’t cry!” came the last voice in the universe she wanted to hear. “Party’s just gettin’ started!”
Her fists clenched and she looked up at him. She glared pure venom but of course, it didn’t even dent the Ice King’s relentless obliviousness. He started saying something about karaoke but she didn’t bother listening, instead retreating to let Magic Man’s muscle memory take the lead.
A tap of one foot, a twirl on the other and she appeared outside of the prison cell. Somewhat awkwardly, she reached back through the bars to pull out her carpet.
“What, we can do something else too! Board games? Penguin charades?”
“Shhhhuttup,” she hissed, going against her own determination to not acknowledge him. He’d probably take any sort of response as encouragement.
Sure enough, he was all nervous smiles and “oh, don’t be like that baby…” which only made her madder. Madder, madder, and sadder.
It was easier to be mad. But the sadness (totally, 100%, entirely all the magic’s fault of course) twisted up in her small intestine until she was gasping just to keep herself from being sick. Tension lit up her spine like an electric shock, her teeth creaking audibly, her eyes bugging until they hurt.
* * * * *
“I should tell y-mph,” he gasped between messy, glorious kisses. “I’ve never…”
She hadn’t meant to interrupt him, she just hadn’t wanted him to take his tongue out of her mouth either. Still, Betty forced herself to reel it in a little, drunk on the haze of hormones and affection and anxiety and drive to go go go before she lost her nerve.
“Sorry,” she gasped. For good measure she pressed a quick peck to his chin as further apology, then pulled away just enough for her to look him in the eyes. They appeared to be all-pupil in the darkness of his bedroom, even blurrier without her glasses on. “Never what?”
Simon’s hands slid from her hair, bumped her shoulders clumsily on the way down, his gaze traveling with as they tremulously moved to hold her waist. Familiar, grounding territory. Nonetheless, the irrational terror that he knew somehow and was about to push her away…
“I’ve never…I’ve never. Before. Um.”
Oh. Oh shit.
She couldn’t think anything else at first, overwhelmed with understanding and relief all at once, so she sort of just kept thinking it out loud uselessly. Hell of a drug, hormones, reducing two certified articulate academics to stammering messes. “Oh, oh my god, Simon.”
“I just don’t want you to be…”
“Simon, me neither!”
She was worried he’d take it the wrong way for a brief second that had her wincing. But then his face lit up in relief and he cried out “WHAT?”
And then, all the tension just came crashing down. Suddenly she was embarrassed and the opposite of embarrassed all at once, snorting and giggling as she pushed her face into his neck, enjoying the scratch of his stubble and the inexplicably alluring smell of his sweat. His hands pressed into her back and he shook with laughter of his own.
Hormones. Bonding. She knew the terms. But it was so much more than that too, wasn’t it? She moved to kiss him again, more well behaved this time around but still no less deep or passionate. Simon Petrikov made her feel right and she’d never wanted anyone more badly before.
“Okay,” she said when they came up for air again. There was no denying that she squeaked while saying it but that didn’t mean she had to acknowledge it. “Okay. This is good. We can just do whatever we want now and no one has to be embarrassed or disappointed.”
He looked at her admiringly. “Figure it out together. I like the sound of that.”
Betty wiggled in his lap happily. “Can I take my shirt off?”
He blinked at her, then fell the rest of the way back on the bed with a grin. “‘ Can I,’ she asks!”
* * * * *
She blinked.
It took a couple beats to realize she’d done…something. The room had gone dim, all the lights except for one blown out. The colors of the room had gone from deep blue to moody purple. All of the penguins had slowly started backing out of the room. Even the Ice King had actually shut up at some point, but of course he didn’t look bothered so much as just confused.
Betty swiped at her eyes again, biting back a curse. Stupid as this-he, they, everything- was, she hadn’t meant to scare them.
“...sooo… Maybe we got off to a bad start.”
It hurt so much worse to hear that distorted voice when the memory of him ( her Simon the way he used to be) was still fresh from the intrusive recall. It hurt even worse knowing he didn’t remember anything at all because she could remember everything. In vivid, excruciating detail, and sometimes the flashes of dissociation would take her over entirely while she unconsciously did fuck knows what. Exhibit A: ten seconds ago.
If only she could drag him into the past with her. Maybe that’d bring him back to his senses. At least for a little while.
If she could just talk to him again for a minute she was so sure she’d be okay again. Some sign of hope to see her through another few months of loneliness and misery and magic.
She’d already tried everything she could think of to jog his memory. Dug up photographs from his basement. Sung their song in her wobbly voice. Conjured up the crab cakes and greasy-smelling mozzarella sticks from their first date: sensory stimuli she knew had to be coded in that brain of his somewhere.
But no. Nothing. If Simon was still in there, he was firmly locked away.
“Why doesn’t anything work?” she seethed aloud. “Why can’t you remember?”
It was an asinine question. She already knew (both intellectually and from Magic Man’s lilting know how) that the problem was the crown. The magic. The same thing that tortured her with her past deliberately blocked Simon from his.
As if eager to demonstrate, Ice King scratched at his chin. “Uh…remember what? Lady, I don’t even remember what I don’t remember no more!”
“Tell me about it,” she grumbled. She needed to stop ruminating and get the hell out of there already.
“He-ey,” he said, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I like what you did with the lights. Really sets the mood.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. Just like he used to. Except back then, he’d been acting like an idiot on purpose to make her laugh. Now, she just wanted to scream.
She turned to leave and he dove to block her path, grabbing her by the hands and pulling her further into the room.
“How’s about a slow dance, huh? I can grab my CD’s and-”
“You don’t even like CD’s,” she snapped. “It was always cassettes and vinyl with you!”
“I-” He looked stung when she yanked her hands away. He remained uncharacteristically quiet for a brief, tense moment. Then he looked at her and asked, “...do you know me?”
* * * * *
It was almost two in the morning, both of them exhausted and nowhere near ready for sleep just the same. The last of the housewarming dinner guests had gone and both of them kept looking at the ring on her finger, glinting warmly in the dim candlelight. The turntable was turning, the crooner was crooning, the empty bottle of wine was still buzzing pleasantly in their systems and he kept pulling her close and spinning her around their kitchen. It was unbelievably cramped, but more importantly, it was theirs .
“I can’t believe I get to marry you,” he sighed. God, what a corny thing to say, and yet it had her face lighting up like a roadflare. It only got worse when his hands squeezed a little at her hips.
Heat made her voice rasp in her throat. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation and hours of chitchatting. “Whaddya say we christen this place, huh?”
Their slowdance slowed, though he kept them swaying a bit while his brows lifted sky-high. “Christen?”
She huffed, exasperated, though he gave himself away by chuckling. Tipsy and clumsy, he started pulling her back towards their new bedroom.
* * * * *
God. Dammit. This again. Those moments where he tilted his head and looked at her with some semblance of focus and said something that almost, almost sounded like himself.
But she’d already had her hopes risen and dashed to pieces one too many times.
Sharp pain filled her chest and stabbed outwards, turning her hands harsh as she shoved his chest. Ice King fell back on the recliner but his expression remained undeterred, some quip about “liking it rough” only going heard enough to make her even angrier.
“I do know you!” she cried: an admission she hadn’t wanted to make. It was…easier to think of Ice King as separate, as some rando jackass who’d taken over the love of her life. But the truth, sucky as it was? His hopeful grin, those stupid wiggling eyebrows, the glint of desire and uncertainty in his unrecognizable eyes-it was all Simon. The goofy, ridiculous side of him but still him nonetheless. How fucked up was it, what kind of sick sense of humor did the universe have , that she was missing him like a stolen kidney and standing directly in front of him at the same exact time?
She just wanted him back. Just for a minute.
An idea popped into her mind. Or no. More like it coalesced. The pieces had been there from the moment she first felt his cold breath on her ear.
It was a horrible idea. It made her shudder. And yet… she’d tried everything else, hadn’t she? It might work. He wasn’t wearing his crown.
And she was lonely. Almost as lonely as he was.
Fuck it. Fuck it fuck it fuck it. And fuck him. Literally.
She stared at him. And-with an ease that came only from magic, straddled him on the chair and planted her hips right on his lap, startling a perfectly on cue gasp from him. His hands went to her waist…muscle memory. She pretended they weren’t wizened and blue.
“You know what I want?” She kept her voice demanding and angry as she felt.
He gave her a dumb and desperate nod. Silence from him-she could deal with that.
“You want it too?”
His eyes bugged. His hands dug into her sides to keep her where she was. “You? I mean? Can I? Please?”
“Yeah. Fuck it.” Fuck you. Literally.
It took a second for it to sink in. Then he fell back in his recliner, all sharp grin and hungry, pathetic eyes. “Anything for you, Princess!”
* * * * *
She really really really hadn’t meant to tell him about this particular fantasy. One too many drinks at their favorite hole in the wall bar and suddenly she was spilling out desires she’d been too embarrassed to even tell a therapist. It wasn’t weird or kinky stuff either. Just…a little pathetic. “Princess treatment,” as she’d described it. Someone knowing exactly what she wanted and liked…and giving it to her. Like she was special or something.
He’d been confused at first, setting them up for some kind of royalty role play scenario (which itself had been quite sweet and worth putting a pin in). But, even better, he hadn’t taken it personally when she clarified.
“...and then she had the audacity to imply I…ooh…that I slept with you! To get the position!” Betty ranted at the ceiling, wiggling a little beneath Simon’s body. He lifted his head from her breast and his mouth was still glistening, his own breath coming just as heavy as hers.
“Bonkers,” he agreed, punctuating with a kiss to her collarbone before he moved to mouth at her neck. The whole time his fingers remained busy, lazily stroking between her legs before plunging deep, searching along her insides and making her gasp. “You didn’t sleep with me until after you earned the position. Fair and square.”
She laughed, breathless, incredulous. “I know right!”
“She’s probably envious.”
“Soooo envious,” Betty agreed, rocking her hips and pressing her head into the pillow happily. Simon ducked his head down again to suck her other nipple into his mouth, the pull and pressure sending perfect little zings right down to her core to join his wonderful wonderful fingers.
He scraped her ever so slightly with his teeth, gentle but present enough to make her shiver. She felt her focus slipping a little more…but she had more self-indulgent complaints to make. Simon was not at all a spiteful man, but he was good at being supportive, and the fact that he was doing this for her at all just heightened the pleasure even more.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” she continued. “I-ohh, Simon-get the best job…” she had to pause and swallow hard when she felt herself take another heavy step closer to coming. Breathing through it, she looked down and met his eyes, watching her from below in blurry adoration. She smiled, feeling wicked and vicious and wanted and like the luckiest goddamn woman alive. “... and the best boyfriend.”
Simon came up for air, head tilted, like he was considering something. “Oh. I thought you meant…you know.” He glanced down between her legs, pushed his fingers in deeper until she moaned. “Why wouldn’t she be envious of you in general?” His free hand stroked up her thigh and she fumbled to grab it, to wrap her fingers around him and squeeze as he continued to work her up. “Brilliant, beautiful…”
Somehow, Betty felt her face burning up more than it had been already. The smooches he dotted down her sternum towards her belly weren’t helping. “Other words starting with B?” she gasped, trying to shake off the intensity with a bit of humor.
“Bodacious?” he offered.
She burst into giggles, which quickly turned into a sharp “Ah-!” when he twisted his hand and brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.
They both looked at each other, startled. Then, she watched as delight (and maybe a little smugness) dawned on his face.
“There?” he asked, pressing and stroking again. “Is that where you need it, Princess?”
She writhed . Coherent thought was officially gone.
“Simon,” she gasped. “How-?”
He shrugged in a vaguely-sheepish gesture. She couldn’t get a good look at his expression as he scooted back and lowered his head to her dripping core.
“Oh, I did some research.”
* * * * *
Betty could feel that she was wet. Not insanely aroused, maybe, but aroused enough (thanks to the memories).
And she wasn’t the only one. Old and senile or not, it seemed some things about Ice King were working just fine. She could feel his cock jutting up beneath her, covered by his robe but already half-hard. Just from the thought of her? Under any other circumstances she might’ve felt flattered.
She didn't want him naked. Didn't want to know. She just reached down for a handful of blue fabric and lifted, both of them shifting until his scrawny legs and cock were free. Not caring to try and be sexy, she spat in her palm and reached down, fumbling until she had him in hand.
She didn’t look down. Didn’t want to know.
Ice King gasped again at her touch, moaning softly and wordlessly. He let go of her in order to grasp at the armrests of his chair instead.
Just closed her fist a little tighter around him and started pumping, wishing she had some actual fucking lube and trying real hard to not think about how cold he was and the problems that might cause. All the while, he squirmed beneath her. No doubt it’d been a very, very long time since he’d had any.
Had there been anyone else after her? A thousand years was an incomprehensibly long time. Just the question made her jealous, and the jealousy spurred her onward.
* * * * *
When she suggested they give oral sex a try, he’d been a stammering, flustered mess. Frankly, it made her want to rock his fucking world. Good lord, she’d been so confident…
The reality, of course, was that blowjobs were really fucking hard and awkward. She was beefing it and beefing it real bad.
Frustrated, she pulled back and panted for breath, the taste of his skin (musky and weird, though not unpleasant) still humming in her brain.
“Betty…” he moaned.
“Give me a second, Petrikov. You're really big!”
That startled a laugh from him, then another. He shook with it, sputtering, “I'm really not!”
“Try fitting all of you into your mouth, then,” she grumbled. Her annoyance at him was fake, but her frustration with herself wasn't. She really had thought this would be easy-ish.
“I think I'd break my spine,” he chuckled. At least the laughing was getting him to relax.
Much to her dismay the mood was slipping, but Simon (predictably) was taking it like a champ. His fingertips brushed her hair from her face, longing still dark and warm in his eyes. “Come up here,” he said, “Please?”
He was still rock hard in front of her. Just to watch him squirm, she kissed the tip of his dick. Frustration hadn’t dented her determination. “Nope. Not done yet.”
He sounded a little breathless. Maybe the mood wasn't dead after all. “Princess, you don't have to-”
She started with just the head, wrapping her lips around it and sucking experimentally. He jolted, hands suddenly grabbing her head desperately. To stop her or to push her down? She had a fantasy or two about being manhandled, but Simon most definitely wasn't the type.
Betty moved back, just enough to slide her mouth down the side of his shaft, making use of tongue and light suction in equal turn. His squirming worsened and he yanked his hands away, making her feel giddy with triumph.
“You want me to stop?” She asked, pressing a few more kisses over his soft, hot skin.
He looked like he'd forgotten how to speak. She quirked a brow.
“Tell me what you want,” she teased. Experimentally, she moved her hands from his knees to sloooowly glide up his thighs. His hands went to cover his face, muffling an inarticulate groan.
A girl could get used to a sight like that. She was glad she'd kept her glasses on.
Betty opened her mouth wide and tried again.
* * * * *
She stopped herself, alarmed at just how fast she’d been jerking him off. An unintentional glance down had revealed a dark blue tip positively glistening in the dim light, and yep. He was ready.
“Please, please-” he whined, squirming and begging beneath her. At some point, those long nails of his had left long scratches in the icy armrests of his chair. In spite of everything Betty felt a surge of satisfaction, of feeling powerful.
“Shh,” she hissed, and he obeyed.
A blink of magic later and all her clothes beneath the waist were gone. Hopefully, she could magic them back again later.
There was a lump in Betty's throat and she swallowed it. As for him…he still seemed shocked stupid that this was happening at all, the only sign he was at all present being the desperate, unrelenting grip he returned to her hips. She'd have bruises in the shape of his fingertips tomorrow, she was sure. She couldn't find it in herself to mind.
“Ready?” She whispered, more to the ghost of Simon than to either herself or Ice King.
Still, she waited for another nod before she lowered her hips down again, fitting his dick right between her thighs.
She barely managed to bite back her gasp in time- god it felt strange, his frigid body temperature against hers. Strange but intense. Reaching down, she stroked him into her palm to line things up; instantly, involuntarily, he bucked into her touch with a groan. She found herself endeared rather than annoyed, her body remembering him as he used to be and responding accordingly, instinctively wanting to laugh-which in turn, made her want to cry.
To distract herself, to keep him from finishing the apology he was mid-stammering out, she breathed and sunk down. Fast.
It was like suddenly running out of hot water in the shower-her entire body seized at the sensation, was wracked with a shudder. Unlike a surprise cold shower, the intense feeling was inside her. Her instincts were torn between pulling away as fast as possible and leaning into the strange, promising new sensations.
At the same time, Ice King moaned, clawed blue hands pressing dimples into her thighs.
“You’re so warm.”
“Shut up,” she hissed, rocking down on him. Hard.
He did the opposite of that. And if she closed her eyes, it was Simon-if she stopped denying harsh realities, it really actually totally was Simon.
“Oh-” he started, and she cut him off by lunging down, their faces barely a foot apart. Coming at him from the side, she tried to see if-
-okay, yeah, doable. Working around that ridiculous nose, she sealed her mouth over his and swallowed any statements he might’ve had.
Immediately, gladly, he welcomed her. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He wrapped his arms tight around her-one slung just above her hips, the other diagonally across her back-clutching as if to never let go again.
That too left her stranded somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry and wanting to yell at him.
Still. She didn’t make him stop.
* * * * *
“ Sorry, ” he choked, still hiding his face against her boobs while she shook with repressed laughter, fond and amused and feeling-bad all at once. “Sorry. I swear I’m not usually-”
“It’s okay!” she giggled, running her hands up and down his back in soothing strokes. She switched to lightly running her nails along his skin and he shivered, the wanting clutch of his arms growing even tighter. Her grin widened.
“It’s pathetic…” he said, barely whispering loud enough for her to hear it. Still, it was as good as a shout given how it surprised her into stillness instantly. Simon got down on himself at times, sure, but he was usually a lot more indirect with it. A lot of self deprecating humor and the like, stuff that often got lost in conversations too quickly for her to protest.
“No, it’s not…” she whispered back, fierce and loving and insistent. “I love you. And…it’s been a long day.”
Good lord, she was bad at being comforting. “Long day” was a pretty inadequate way to describe another moronic takedown article from Bruce fucking Guese effectively stealing all the wind from the sails of Simon’s latest find. He always claimed to be used to ridicule and always put on that same brave face, but by now she knew him well enough to tell when his composure was contrived. Something about sex that night seemed to have broken through, and though she knew that was a good thing she still felt herself floundering. Her ineptitude wasn’t surprising, but still was highly disappointing Simon always knew what to say when she was down; the thought that she couldn’t return the favor? Really made her feel like a dingus.
Guese had better count his fucking days.
“Uhm, y’know,” she fumbled on anyway, clumsily funneling what she remembered of neuroscience 101 into layman's terms as if Simon wasn’t perfectly capable of comprehending it. “All the hormones and junk. If your tear ducts didn’t flush all that out, that big brain of yours might melt and then where would we be?”
He snorted, the sound muffled against her chest. She moved one hand to run her fingertips through his hair, tugging just enough to encourage him to look up at her. Bleary, bloodshot eyes looked back at her, hot tears smeared across his cheeks and soaked into her bra.
“...I love you,” she said again, not knowing what else to say. At least she meant it, and at least that seemed to get through to him okay. His face screwed up again and he dropped his face, embarrassed.
“Not helping, ” he whined, only for her to start repeating it like a litany.
“I love you I love you I love you I love you -”
* * * * *
Eventually, Ice King lightened up a bit-his touch went from restrictive to exploratory, constantly moving his palms over her skin, sending icy jolts through her body and shivers down her spine as he did so.
Betty felt overwhelmed by the sensation, eyes shut and utterly lost. She pushed up her shirt and pulled his hands to her breasts, shuddering at the shock of his cold skin on her nipples.
Ice King said something that sounded like a swear. She ignored it.
More. She wanted more.
* * * * *
He stopped mid thrust with a snort of laughter at the highly unsexy sound their sweaty stomachs made when pressed together. Horny or not, she wasn’t much better, grabbing his shoulder to keep him still while she shook with giggling. The intensity ebbed, the feeling of losing her impending orgasm not a concern in the slightest. Not while she was so loved and held and safe…
* * * * *
He was getting more and more desperate, pulling her down hard and trying to thrust up into her at the same time. A litany of “please please please, princess…” blurred around her. She kept her eyes closed, kept remembering.
* * * * *
Holy shit. She’d read about it and decided to give it a try: getting a gentle fistful of his hair to maneuver his head around and kiss his neck. Turned out not all magazine sex tips were total bunk; immediately, he’d choked and spurted all over her belly…
* * * * *
His cum was cold. It didn’t stop her. Didn’t save him from overstimulation either.
She wanted hers too.
* * * * *
The first time she wrapped her legs around him in order to pull him deeper, and that fucking sound he’d made…
* * * * *
She rose and fell, harder, harder, seething with frustration and burning up with rushing blood and yet, still couldn’t seem to bring herself to that boiling point.
* * * * *
Holy shit that one time in his office on campus…
* * * * *
Her muscles burned, thighs trembling as she faltered and let out a cry, barely managing to keep herself from punching him. Maybe she should’ve--it might’ve helped.
* * * * *
Simon’s chest pressed against her back as she ground back on him, so deliciously full and stretched…
* * * * *
Exhausted and frustrated to the point of near madness (as if she needed more of that!), Betty readjusted, tried to push through it. She was so, so close…
* * * * *
Breathless and panting in the afterglow, he reached for her. The kiss was hot and wet and messy and she wanted to drown in it.
* * * * *
But then, like being shocked, a cold finger slid down between her legs, slicking through the folds spread around his cock then dragging back up again in search of-
“Ah-!” she gasped, rhythm stuttering to a stop.
Well. At least he remembered that much.
She sank fully into his lap with a shiver, moaning in spite of herself at the fullness, at the slight sting of his cold touch that was so terribly perfect on her clit. He rubbed gently, but the temperature difference and dry roughness of his skin almost made up for it. She rocked against him urgently, insistently, cranking up the intensity the rest of the way herself.
“Fuck-” she choked. The chaos of her mind melted into white, into pure sensation and the absoluteness of the present moment.
He hissed as she spasmed around him, making some unintelligible, vaguely-soothing noise that was so Simon that she snapped, flinging her arms around his neck with a sob. She buried her face in his snow-white beard without thought for its cleanliness/lack thereof. She ground down against his hips and hand helplessly, drawing out her orgasm until the last ripples of it left her panting and boneless. And…rushing with endorphins that her dome really did not know what to do with just then.
A blink later and she found herself gasping for entirely non-sexy reasons, curled up into him like she was trying to hole up and die in his arms. Not that he would understand or care if she did…not beyond “woah hey this chick who was tolerating me is totally gonzo now, what gives.”
“Hey, it’s alright!” he said, a bit too brightly and a bit too dorkily for someone who currently had her split open on his cock. For a brief second, she had to wonder if he’d forgotten, but then he added, “I cry all the time after gettin’ busy too! Dunno why- must be an empath thing, I guess.”
His nonsensical muttering (in addition to everything else) made her laugh without a hint of actual mirth. She pulled back to look at him, knowing that would bring her right the fuck back down to earth again. And it did…sort of. Her trembling hands held his face, smoothing down his unruly beard and matching the lines beneath to her memories of him, trying with all her might to resolve the dissonance between the two…or to keep it in place. She couldn’t quite decide which was worse. He stared her in the eye again, thankfully shocked into silence once more.
“Come back to me,” she begged him, begged the universe, begged whatever god or otherwise higher-power might be listening. Her throat was still tight with tears. “Please, Simon. God. Come back to me.”
“I’m right here, baby!” he reassured, quick and desperate and, as ever, too cheerful. “I ain’t goin’ nowheres!”
Betty did something then that she’d never done before. (Okay she probably had as an infant.) Regardless. She hung her head and wailed.
He tried everything, frantic touches and platitudes meant to comfort her, none lingering long enough to do any good. She was downright hysterical. It was all too much, too overwhelming, the only remotely coherent thought she was capable of being something around the lines of “Fucking fuck what the fuck did I just do?”
Cold arms crushed her close in a hug.
“It’s alright, Princess…”
Princess princess princess… That word in his voice seemed to echo through her skull again, leaving her dizzy.
“Let’s just go to sleep, yeah? You’ll feel better in the morning. I’ll fix you breakfast in bed ‘n everything.”
Blearily, she clawed her way back to her senses. Or maybe it was more like the stupid, sweet, Simon-like offer had shocked her enough to give her an idea. Betty sat up, wiped at her eyes so she could look at him.
“...sleep?”
Confused, desperate, encouraging, he grinned back at her. Spoke as if to a vaguely concerning stranger. “Yeah, sleep-!”
She shouldn’t. She super shouldn’t.
But…she wanted it. Just for a little while. It’d probably be the easiest way to leave, anyhow.
“Yeah,” she agreed. A twitch of her nose and she’d magicked her clothes back into place again. “But no talking anymore.”
“Whatever you sa--mmph!”
She was disgusted with him, and even more so with herself. Even still, she didn’t hesitate to kiss him. It would’ve felt a little silly to do so at that point anyhow given she’d just let him cum inside of her.
Why the fuck had she thought this would work?
Not letting herself look at him, not letting him get the chance to speak, she settled back in his lap again, rested her head on his shoulder. In spite of everything…his beard was soft. It smelled, faintly, like the memory of him.
* * * * *
The scent of him was thick in her nose and overwhelmingly wonderful. She was one hundred percent going to be stealing his clothes from then on, if only to have a bit of him with her. He was her boyfriend now so she was entitled, right?
Betty sighed happily, her head resting on Simon’s chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but she liked hearing his heartbeat, liked how surprised he’d been when she laid herself there. Till her dying day, she’d remember the way his arms had hesitated, then gently wrapped around her.
She wanted to remember everything about that moment. Everything about every moment with him. She’d play each thought and sensation over and over again until they stuck, manually pave the neural pathways her damn self if she had to.
She never, ever, wanted to let him go.
* * * * *
Betty shut her eyes. And she breathed. And she waited for Simon to fall asleep beneath her.