OK OK OK NOW SIMON POV
much longer-but still short, both less and more fluffy (idk how either), vague mentions of sexual habits (no details), acceptance of care, vague anxiety, more balanced on the hurt/comfort, mention of sex as an expectation, subversion of expectations.
He can tell when Grace wakes up, being held closer and allowing himself to hold the Angel closer in return, then feeling him go rigid before relaxing. He shifts, and squirms, and weakly tries to pull away, but never really commits to any of the movements when Simon holds him in place or pulls him back. It does get annoying though, and Simon eventually presses a hand between his Savior's wings to keep him in place. Grace sucks in a breath and freezes, and Simon knows he's fucked up. He quickly fixes his hand placement, moving to right above his Angel's tail bone.
"'m s'rry 'ngel…" He manages to get out, looking up at Grace, and isn't it just the most beautiful sight? His Angel, his Grace, looking down at him with such an expression; cheeks flushed and eyes wide, dilated, surely meant to mimic an animal's eyes when hunting, but Simon would tell himself, for right now, that it was completely human, like the look he'd seen on some of his Brother's faces when looking at someone they shouldn't be. "Didn' mean t' touch 'em…"
Simon knows the wings are sensitive, despite Grace using them frequently for mundane things. He would use them to gather papers that got scattered on the floor, or to position a dining chair, but Simon's both favorite and least favorite use of those wings is when Grace would herd and guide him with them. He used to do it a lot more, maybe it was a way to get him used to closeness, to touch. Grace's wings would simply hover over or around his shoulders, not even pushing him closer, he just…moved closer. It seemed to be what the Angel wanted, and it had been so long since Simon had been that close to someone without hurting them.
Once, when Simon was especially tired, he had felt the gentle brush of those feathers on his shoulder and leaned into it. Not a lot, he knew he couldn't rely on the limb for support, but they were so soft. Grace had gone rigid, quickly pulling his wing away from Simon. He'd apologized, for some reason unknown to Simon, saying that his wings are sensitive to touch. Simon simply nodded and made sure he'd never cross that line again. And now he almost had. He buries his face in Grace's chest, holding the- the man closer, wishing they could somehow, impossibly, be even closer.
"I-it's okay. Just- wasn't expecting it. That's all." Grace says, finally, pulling Simon from his thoughts. He feels fingers weave into his hair and he feels something tight in his chest- relax… just a bit. Enough for his breath to shake before he lets himself relax. It feels so nice to be held like this, with no expectation of payment or something more.
His Healer didn't pull away, instead relaxing into him just as much. Simon supposed that he wouldn't be punished for almost touching the wings he was currently wrapped up in, so he let his mind wander.
He'd had passing relations with strangers, one notable relationship with another member of Eden that was now long gone. The nights in passing were always fast and desperate, needing to get through it as fast as possible without getting caught. Eden was a cult, Simon could admit that, one that didn't value reproduction, since they would all die soon anyway. And it's not like anyone could get the nutrition necessary to actually get past the first few weeks anyway. He'd hated those flights of fancy, simply brought on by base human desire and need for connection. He's had needs here, sure, but he also has the privacy to deal with it himself.
Apparently, Grace had been very adamant about the bedrooms and bathrooms specifically being made "sound proof" so even Eridians couldn't see inside if they themselves weren't in the room. There were windows, to let light in, but they were higher up than the other windows in the house, and seemed to be layered similarly to the walls. Simon found the silence deafening at first, still did, but then Grace had given him a portable computer, and it could produce sound. Any sound he liked. And he knew that, no matter how loud he played it, it wouldn't bother Grace.
He thinks about it all for a while. About how Grace had given him so much- so much grace and privacy and these luxuries that could only exist in heaven, yet insisted that they were both still alive and mortal. His Angel might be delusional, but that's okay. It's what made him so kind. Simon wouldn't take that from him, not like Eden had taken so much from him. A thought passes briefly, that he could want more with his Angel, if Grace wanted more. But for now? This, laying and basking in each other's company, holding each other lovingly, was perfect.
Simon hears Grace's stomach growl, then feels his own respond in kind. Grace groans, holding him tighter and complaining about not wanting to get up. Simon isn't sure why they would have to, he'd gone hungry longer for something less valuable than an Angel's touch. He doesn't say that. Instead, he simply says that they could stay here, mimicking Grace's tight hold. Grace sighs and relaxes, pulling away slightly and looking down at him again. Still just as pretty. Grace says something jokingly about eating being important and not wanting to feel hunger pains again, and that's all the reason Simon needs to get up and start on breakfast. No, he couldn't let his Savior suffer hunger pains. Especially since he's already felt them. Once (or however many times, Simon didn't know and didn't care) was already too much.
He's got the food cut up and cooking when Grace follows him in. They've started a routine; Grace liked knowing what he was eating, and Simon like explaining his thought process while cooking, so he rambled about the vegetables he'd picked and how he'd seasoned and cut the meat and what he's cooking it in for how long and- arms are around his waist where the shirt he's wearing had ridden up, forehead on his shoulder, wings vaguely surrounding them, Grace's weight loosely against him. He freezes, not expecting it. There's a small shift.
"If you tell me to stop, I will." Grace says, and for a moment, Simon thinks that this will go further. He nods and relaxes, letting Grace know that he could, that Simon would let him. He'd be happy to, really, if that's what Grace wanted. But then he hears Grace coo and try to nuzzle the crook of his neck before hissing in pain. Simon tenses at the reminder of last night, but doesn't pull away, especially not as Grace rests his chin on Simon's shoulder instead.
"I'm sorry." Simon says, Grace hums.
"What for?" He asks, and Simon can't decide if his Angel has forgotten, forgiven him, or is trickinghim into admitting guilt. He takes a breath, deciding to risk the third. Grace has shown no malice in the months Simon's been here, no intentional manipulation.
"For hurting you." He says, and Simon still feels as if he'll be smitten where he stands as he answers. Laying out his guilt for all to see, even if it's just Grace here. He feels his Savior's arms tighten around him, not pulling him back, but standing tall and holding him firm against the suddenly all encompassing warmth of his Angel's chest.
"You've already apologized more than enough, I've already forgiven you." His Grace says, soft and kind, yet firm. There's no need to dwell on this transgression, it's been judged and forgiven. Just like every other before it. Vaguely, Simon recalls old stories his mother would tell him where someone would refer to a ruler as "your grace." Maybe he could simply start calling Grace 'King', or 'Lord'. But that's for another time. For now, Simon would enjoy being held as he worked, feeling Grace trace nothing on his skin.
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