Work Text:
Grace was on the verge of a breakthrough. He could feel it this time. In another hour, he’d have it. If Simon would stop knocking at his door every few seconds, he’d be there sooner.
“Grace, work time's over. Let’s go to bed.”
“I said another half hour,” Grace snipped.
“Yeah, you’re way past that. Did you even hear me the last time I came in?”
Grace scoffed. Simon was being dramatic. Grace had told him he’d be done by 09:30 and it was only—
“Clock’s broken,” Grace muttered indignantly. He turned the flickering 00:34 away from himself. “Alright. Just a few more minutes.”
Simon stepped into the room, dark hair tied back, smelling like fresh soap and his skin. He was in soft, clean sleep clothes. Grace suddenly realized how much of a tussled mess his own hair must be. His face was no doubt raw and agitated from rubbing it so much.
“Grace, I’m not fucking around today. You’re done. You wouldn’t have eaten dinner if I didn’t bring it in. It’s time for bed.”
Grace adjusted his glasses, looking somewhat guiltily at the barely-touched plate. It faded the moment he saw his computer screen again. “It’s fine, Simon. I’ve pulled all-nighters before.”
“Grace.”
Simon grabbed his chair and swiveled Grace to face him. He had that adorable, scowl that would try to brow-beat him into bed. But Grace had sat opposite hundreds of indignant adults looking for someone to blame at parent-teacher conferences. Looks couldn’t guilt him into anything these days.
“Simon,” he said, tone an expression derisive. “It’s fine. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
Grace toed the floor and pushed himself back around to face the computer screen. Now, where’d he put his pen—oh, in his coffee mug. Great, now the pem was wet and he needed more coffee. Why’d he type in 2+2 on the text screen? Wasn’t that supposed to be a datapoint? Where was he?
Suddenly, Grace felt the chair turning around. Simon was there, flesh and prosthetic arm suddenly latched around his collar. “Oh Sugar!”
For half a second, Grace was weightless as Simon heaved him out of the chair. His feet floated as Simon basically dragged him across the floor and pushed him into his lab’s wall. And—WOW. Ok.
The desk and cabinet clattered. None of the force jostled Grace, but was instead taken by Simon’s prosthetic arm braced at his side. His flesh hand shifted to grip Grace’s jaw. His thigh pressed up between his legs. The heat was so nice, but no! Grace had work.
When he opened his mouth to protest, it came out as more of a gasp than any solid words. He was definitely going to come up with something good, but Simon was already there, barely giving him a moment to breathe before he kissed him roughly.
And oh that was good.
Grace let his head fall back against the wall and Simon followed him. That hand on his jaw guided Grace to tilt his head just so. His entire body went slack as Simon’s tongue brushed his. And then that blissful knee was there between his legs, giving him something solid to grind against. A whimper slipped out between kisses. Oh, he was half-hard already and there was that perfect friction, if Simon just kept kissing him, he could be here forever.
But the firm hand on his jaw, grounding and steady, trailed back, carding up into his hair. Simon held him there and started to pull away. No! More! Grace whined. He tried to follow Simon, but he wasn’t allowed.
The two stared at each other, gasping as they caught their breath. Simon broke the silence first.
"...Bed?"
An involuntary shudder zipped up Grace's spine. He nodded, swiping his tongue across the corner of his mouth.
"Bed."
Simon carried him there, letting Grace wrap his legs around his waist and feel the teasing rub of his taught body against him. Grace loved the planes of thick muscle under his hands. He loved the feel of Simon, his smell. Grace burrowed his head into him, enjoying the feel of Simon all around him.
When he was laid out on the bed, Grace whined at the loss of contact. Simon was so far away at the foot of the bed, taking off his shoes. Traitor. Simon hand ran up along Grace’s leg to soothe him, but it wasn’t enough.
Grace whined again.
“What?” Simon asked, dark eyes mirthful. He leaned down and kissed Grace’s ankle. “You couldn’t get rid of me fast enough a minute ago.”
“I’m stupid,” Grace said dazedly. “Get up here, please.”
Simon obliged and Grace moaned as another rough series of kisses pressed him into the sheets. Warm, heavy, safe.
Then it was gone again. Grace keened, sitting up and reaching for the broad back leaving him too soon.
Simon’s left prosthetic was suddenly splayed on his chest, pushing him flat on the bed.
“Behave now, Grace,” Simon warned.
His right hand started to undo his pants. Grace rolled his hips up, brushing barely against Simon's knuckles. “Or what?”
Simon pulled his hand away. “You’re being a brat, you know that?”
Grace nodded. He wanted to be one tonight. Simon quirked his brow, taking Grace’s display in. Then, he settled into it.
Just like that, Simon flipped him and pulled down his pants in one fell swoop. The hand that had been on his chest was pressed between his shoulder blades. Not the neck. Never the back of the neck from behind.
"I told you to stay."
Grace’s mind went pleasantly fuzzy feeling soft lips on his skin, strong hands guiding his shirt off–albeit a bit awkwardly.
Then there it was, the firm press of Simon’s chest against his back, his cock grinding against his ass. Every bare inch of Grace was covered, protected.
Simon kissed his shoulders, ran his hands down his sides, squeezed so nicely that Grace humped into the mattress again. His hand fisted into soft sheets, and he buried his face deeper into them.
“Can’t take care of yourself for shit can you?” Simon asked.
Grace whined.
“That’s alright.” Simon’s hand ran through Grace’s hair and pulled his face out of the soft covers. Simon craned his head down and kissed him, soft and controlled in the haze. “That’s what I’m here for.”
His other hand ran along Grace’s legs, up to his ass. He heard a cap open, but he didn’t quite remember the initial stretch of Simon’s fingers. They were so good, so filling and Grace was so comfortable he could feel himself drifting in pleasure. He ground down into the mattress, chasing his building release. A quick, sharp smack had Grace keening and rubbing his dick into the mattress.
“No, no, no,” Simon chided, pulling up Grace’s hips, arching his spine. “That’s my job.”
The prosthetic left his side and curled around his stomach. Slick fingers slipped out of his ass and curled around his cock, stroking quick and dirty. Grace’s hands scrambled against the bed, pulling the sheets towards him as his legs flexed and bucked uselessly in the air being held by just Simon’s arm. Grace drooled into the mattress. He circled his hips, trying to press himself back into the cock rubbing up against his ass.
“Si! Si! Please,” he slurred.
“You want my cock, Angel?”
He nodded, rejoicing in the warm press of Simon’s body against his when he craned down to ask.
"You can't do anything without it, can you? Can't eat. Can't sleep without being fucked for it."
"Si."
Joy of joys, it didn’t leave this time. Simon adjusted Grace’s dick to lie against his thigh as he was pressed into the mattress. Then, there was a brief chill from the loss of contact before Simon’s erection was sinking deep into Grace’s ass and their bodies lay flush against one another.
Simon’s right hand absently petted Grace’s hair, while the prosthetic held him in place. Simon lay spread out against him, with most of his weight actually bearing down on those arms on either side of Grace’s head. Because of that, Grace could breathe easy and move his limbs as he wanted. It was the perfect balance of restriction and freedom, and something possible with Simon.
Simon who would never hurt him or trap him or let him go. Simon who pushed, but who Grace could stop with a light touch and a breath. His Simon. Grace reached up and back, finding Simon’s silky black locks and clutching him close.
“I’m right here, Angel. I’m right here.”
Grace felt the slow, slick slide of Simon’s cock pick up the pace. Each press of Simon’s hips sent them both a bit closer to the edge. The slow, indulgent drags inside of his tight heat sped up until Grace was being properly fucked deep into the mattress.
Simon’s shaking breaths brushed against his ear. He could feel his climax building as his cock rubbed the sheets tacky with precum. Simon pounded inside of him, a near wail escaping his gritted teeth.
Another slap to his ass sent a spark of pleasure down Grace's body. He pushed back, and Simon pushed in as deep as he could go. He pressed up against Grace in just the right spot and, like that, Grace collapsed into the bed. Every sensation around him faded into a soft, thrumming haze.
The next thing Grace knew, there was a hand rubbing circles in his back and a warm washcloth between his legs. Stray kisses peppered his shoulders.
Grace hummed contentedly until those same strong hands tried to move him. He grunted in protest, trying to hide in the pillows.
“I’m getting you under the covers, Angel. Come on, it’s alright.”
Grace obeyed, resenting the cooler space until the sheets were drawn up around him, and a warm body slid in just beside him. Simon drew Grace into his arms, pressing him close, playing with his hair.
“Time’sit?” Grace mumbled almost incoherently.
“Real fucking late. Don’t worry about it.” Warm lips kissed his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
Grace was way ahead of him.