rugby!simon knows what he wants, and he knows you’ll be more than happy to give it to him.
—or, rugby!simon wants to put a ring on your finger and give you a baby.
18+
his personality is stronger on the field than off, if you can believe it.
you watch as he picks himself out of a maul, untangling himself from the mass of sprawling limbs, huffing angrily to himself as he concedes a penalty. later, you watch as he rips his mouth guard out to spit venomous insults at an opposition player, his fist balled tight in someone else’s shirt. after, you watch as the ref warns him, with fingers itching to pluck a yellow card from her pocket, to keep his hands to himself after he all but tosses the opposition fly-half away from a ruck.
he’s fiery, competitive, and he commands the field better then his team’s captain, it seems. strong arms carrying the ball, thick trunks of legs powering him over tackling players and propelling him over the white paint and into the try zone.
a few of his team mates swarm him, jumping against his muscled back, swatting him over the head in an action of congratulatory praise. but he’s looking dead at you, where you sit near the front row with a couple of mates, and as he shouts an impassioned fuck yeah, baby!, you can’t help but notice how he lingers. watching you, eyes sparkling.
he winks at you, and you wink back.
“you played so well, baby,” you tell him post-match, cupping your hands either side of his face as he leans against the railing which separates the crowd from the side of the pitch.
there’s steam coiling off of him in wispy white tendrils, and his chest still heaves while sweat is still wet on his face and neck. a few blades of grass stick to the column of his throat, and he’s got a gash in his eyebrow that drips along the side of his poorly healed nose. a droplet curls over his chin and finally drops onto his chest, staining his white shirt.
you reach into your purse and pull out a tissue as he thanks you quietly, and you gently dab at his face as fractions of the crowd linger to get autographs and selfies with their team heroes. simon’s teammates work their way around the designated side of the stadium, and you tune out the humming background noise as you look at him.
“almost got carded,” simon says, and there’s almost a hint of guilt in his voice. almost. “acted like a bit of a cunt.”
you smile, shaking your head as you dab the tissue along the narrow trail of blood. “wouldn’t be the first time.”
“s’pose not,” he mutters humorously, closing his eyes as you wipe the blood away from his nose and finally press the soft tissue to the cut in his eyebrow. he opens his eyes when he realises you’ve finished, unflinching at the new pressure against the wound. he smiles. “look at you, sweetheart. always taking care of me.”
you smile back at him, acutely aware of growing stares from people around you. simon has a large hand on your hip, a paw around the softness there, holding you tightly.
“mhm,” you hum. “who else is gonna clean you up? sure wouldn’t be gaz.”
you spare a glance to your right, where a few metres away, simon’s teammate and the team’s top winger speaks kindly to a group of young kids, a charming smile split across his face.
simon laughs softly. “please, he’d jab a sticking plaster over it and call it a day. probably’d say all this red compliments my eyes.”
it does, to be honest, but you don’t tell him that. you wouldn’t have had the chance to, anyway, because three young women approach the two of you with bashful expressions. you turn to face them before simon does, offering them a friendly smile.
“simon? we’re sorry to interrupt, but we were wondering if we could please get a photo?” one of the women asks, voice saccharine and melodic like something out of a classic british soap.
a poisonous jealousy flares inside you, sour along the bumps of your tongue. you wish you didn’t feel this way— you wish their doe eyes and coy smiles didn’t have that kind of effect on you, but it did.
but, knowing simon has no problem in supplying a curt “not tonight,” you decide to swallow that extremely, extremely bitter pill and take a step backward, leaving simon’s hand to drop uselessly, clutching at air.
“of course you can!” you smile brightly, and then offer out a hand. “i can take it for you, if you like?”
simon looks at you. not at them, at you. his eyes trace the contours of your face as one of the women hands you her phone. you can feel his gaze, like a gentle caress, soft despite the blood across his fair skin.
his hands grip the railing as the women pile in around him, smiles blindingly white and perfect as you snap a couple of photos. he doesn’t smile initially, but you shoot him a pointed but private look, and suddenly one corner of his mouth jerks slightly upwards.
“stunning,” you say. “you guys are gorgeous.”
“aww,” the phone’s owner says. “thank you so much…?”
simon says your name for you. it’s clear and proud and rolls off his tongue like he’s been saying it all his life. but then—
“my wife,” is how he finishes, and you can’t help but feel a sudden rush of warmth that completely washes away the green clouding your eyes and the poison in your veins.
the women thank you again and walk away. simon remains watching you, his gaze lingering exactly the way it did on the field. you meet his gaze with your own, finally stepping back into his warmth— and he can finally set his hands back on your hips, looking up at you from your elevated position.
“wife, huh?” you lean in and skim a brief kiss across his lips. “i don’t feel a ring on my finger, si.”
his eyes darken. he looks at your lips. “oh, you’ll get one, sweetheart. that an’ more.”
———
once at home, he’s gentle to start with.
kissing along the back of your neck, he sheds you of your clothes while he presses his front to your back. his hands glide across you, feeling the warm softness of your body, tracing each dip and curve with his face buried against you.
he’s freshly showered, half-bare body hot and damp against your now topless back. his trousers hang low on his hips as he pulls you back onto him, hard cock straining against the fabric. euphoric satisfaction unfurls within you like fern fronds, opening up as his large, calloused hands cup your tits, squeezing the flesh. body alight, you hum as he gropes and kneads, sucking at the junction of skin that makes up the curve of your shoulder.
you’re looking at yourself in the floor-length mirror that sits near your bedroom door. a couple of photographs are taped to the edges— polaroids of you and simon, mainly. a sign of progression on your relationship; a sign of the time gone by. it almost makes you giddy, high off the spoils of a life that sparked from a sultry conversation in a crowded nightclub. colours flashing, darkness ebbing and flowing like the tide, a blur of faces. all to reveal him.
simon’s working your trousers off now, thick fingers shucking your waistband down over your hips. it’s a deft movement, and the fabric soon pools at your ankles as he caresses the softness of your belly. then, one hand is sliding up while the other slides down. vines creeping, searching, tangling around you.
a rough palm lies against your throat, fingers enclosing. his pointer finger is up over your jaw, holding your head in place as his other hand dips below the elastic of your underwear and slides slowly towards your pussy. he continues to press kisses to your neck and shoulder— kisses that feel like brands, fiery and needle-like beneath the bliss that warms your blood.
two fingers, thick and hard-skinned, split open the puffy lips of your cunt, rubbing you gently. you groan inwardly, biting your lip and closing your eyes, head lolling backwards onto simon’s shoulder. you feel him smile against your dewy skin, his cock twitching in his trousers.
“oh, my poor baby,” he coos quietly, lips against your pulse point. it almost makes you jump. the hold he has on your neck tightens just a fraction as one of his other fingers finds the slick building between your legs.
one finger, in, in, in— your body is pliant, pussy warm and silken. you gasp gently, a dull jolt of electricity coursing through you as one of simon’s fingers sinks into your cunt with no resistance.
simon’s lips are at the shell of your ear now. “look at tha’. she didn’t even put up a fight.”
he hooks his finger and squeezes your throat. you whine, mouth dropping open. you’ve been soaked since the car ride home, body thrumming in anticipation as his eyes raked over you again and again through the darkness, sparkling with each passing of a street lamp.
another finger joins the first one, stretching your pussy open. he’s so big, and the spread is a pleasure-stricken pain that forces your toes to curl and your back to arch. your mind is foggy, misty with lust. you feel the strong fat of his lower belly against your back, his cock threatening to rip out his trouser’s seam against the curve of your arse, his warm hands on your neck and across your mound.
simon begins to pump his fingers. his ministrations are slow at first, a dip in the shallow end as he lifts his head to watch you in the mirror. you release a shaky breath, tensed across a whine, and open your eyes as well to watch where your underwear obscures his hand. it almost feels more erotic like this; unseeing but all-feeling.
“god, you look good,” simon breathes, watching you closely, gaze dark and pupils blown. “so beautiful, baby.”
you whine at him as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, peering at you the entire time. soft huffs flutter passed your ear as he works his hand, his own pleasure heightening in his bloodstream.
“one day,” he says. “i’ll stuff this pretty tummy full o’ my kids, get you nice and fat with ‘em. i know you’d love that— can feel the way you’re soakin’ me at the thought, hey, baby?”
he’s right— the thought has your head spinning. your warmth spreads over his hand, wet and sticky. the feel of you soaking his knuckles down to the gusset of your underwear has simon’s cock twitching heavily with his heartbeat, a stifled groan eliciting from deep in his chest.
you feel the vibrations against your back as your tummy grows tighter with your pleasure. the depth he reaches inside you always takes you by surprise— fingertips continuously prodding that special spot that has you seeing galaxies in the shifting shadows of your room.
finally, simon huffs against your shoulder. “m’sorry, sweetheart. hold on f’me.” then, his hand disappears from your throat and trails down your spine as he sinks to his knees behind you, pulling your underwear down as he goes.
you whimper at the cool air that hits your slick cunt, goosebumps erupting across your sweat-slick skin. you feel simon’s breath against the curve of your arse as he pulls your underwear down to your ankles. delicately, he lifts your leg to unhook them and toss them away, before pressing a line of kisses up the back of your thigh. he then slowly, slowly nudges your legs apart.
“bend over a little f’me,” simon whispers to you, teeth skimming the soft flesh of your arse. you wonder if he wasn’t so worked up, and too preoccupied, would he take a bite? you have a strong suspicion that he would love to see the imprints of his teeth on your arse cheek.
you listen, bending at the waist. you’re close enough to the solid mirror now that you can clutch the sides as you bare yourself to him, nipples hardening in the cool air. a bolt of pleasure shoots through you as you hear him grunt appreciatively, followed by faint rustling of what you can imagine is him palming himself over his trousers.
then, large hands find the tops of your thighs, squeezing whilst his thumbs push at the fat of your arse cheeks, dimpling the flesh.
“oh, god,” is whispered into the heat of your core, just centimetres away. “she’s fuckin’ soaked. my sweet girl, absolutely drippin’.”
his tongue finds you, curling and pushing against the slick folds that work up tightly towards your clit; puffy and pumping with your heartbeat. his face presses firmly into your arse, and you watch with fluttering eyelids, in the mirror, at the hunk of mass kneeling behind you.
you’re so close now, jolting like a live wire. humming like one too. you might as well be flinging sparks from your pores as a tense, toe-curling pleasure floods you.
simon’s tongue is warm and firm against you, unceasing in it’s movements, the sounds obscene. pornographic. and he’s making noise, too. grunting and groaning, hips jerking with each curl of his tongue inside you.
he’s a lot quieter with his mouth full. less dirty talk, but you know that will come. it’s inevitable with simon.
you pant, whining, eyes struggling to stay open as you shiver, now struggling to hold onto the mirror.
“simon,” you plead for him, tone breathy and dulcet.
he squeezes your thigh to let you know he’s listening, but his mouth remains full, sucking firmly on your clit. you yelp, then moan, then splutter out a pathetic string of words, “m’gonna… m’gonna come, si. can i…?”
the other hand grasps at your arse while his tongue drags against you, and you take that as a yes— well, you hope it’s a yes, because sparks are flying and you’re coming into his mouth before you even realise what’s happening.
the orgasm is electric— pulsating through you, you grab onto the mirror and hear it creak beneath your fingers as you moan. you feel yourself gush around simon’s tongue, confirmed when a heavy-toned moan is ripped from his chest and muffled against you. you hear your name in there too.
you breathe deeply. “si—”
he’s on his feet immediately, kicking his trousers and briefs off before wrapping you in his arms and literally hauling you towards the bed. you let out a shaky laugh, still drained from the orgasm.
you hit the bed and he follows after you— slamming his mouth against yours and licking at the bumps of your teeth, groaning. his hard cock presses against your thigh, which leaks pre-cum over your skin. he grips himself at the base, kissing you, and spreading your legs wider.
“i’m gonna put a ring on your finger,” he starts, pushing the head of his cock against your swollen clit. he taps it there, hard. you gasp, fingernails clutching at his strong biceps.
“and i’ll fuck you on every surface of our honeymoon hotel room,” he continues, dragging the head up and down your folds, splitting you open, collecting the warmth there. “i’m thinking fiji, hey? or paris… or the maldives…”
you’re not really listening to him. sure, you’re paying attention, but with the ruddy head of his cock playing you like some kind of instrument, your strings were pulling taught and your mind was becoming a mix of notes and chords. but in response, you let out a whine, bordering on soprano.
“and i’ll fuck a baby into you,” he finishes, finally pushing the head of his cock into you. your soaked cunt swallows the tip easily, and he punctuates his sentence with a satisfied grunt. “you’ll make me a daddy— i’ll make you a mama.”
he grins slyly at where your pussy takes his cock. he pushes in, stretching you open and you whine again, arching your back, nipples brushing against his chest. his cock is thick and veined and you can feel them as he pumps himself into you, pulling you apart from the inside out.
“there she goes,” simon coos at you, then talks straight to your pussy, “open wide for me baby— yeah, there we go…”
he bottoms out, cock nudging up towards the base of your cervix, his balls smacking the curve of your arse. he grunts, and you gasp as he sits himself up, putting space between your bodies but angling his cock deeper somehow. two large hands find your hips, gripping tightly.
“simon,” you breathe out, body boiling hot. you watch the way his eyes rake up and down your body before he’s flexing his hips, pulling his cock out of you and then slamming back in. you moan, “fuuuck—!”
“tha’s a good girl, baby. let me hear you,” simon grunts, holding you tightly. he shifts his hips quickly, but he’s pulling you onto him at the same time, causing the bed to creak and your tits to bounce.
you do— air rushes out from your lungs and leaves your throat in a series of pitched whines, moans, and desperate calls of his name. orchestral in the small space of your bedroom, bouncing off the walls and drowning the blood racing in your ears. at one point, you bite your lip to stifle a shuddering moan, but simon urges you to make your sounds— and if you bite your lip again, he’ll shove his fingers into your mouth and really give you something to bite on.
he dips his head for a moment, maintaining his thrusts while he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harshly as his hand moves up to cup the other. squeezing, kneading. his tongue laves over your nipple, teeth grazing. you think you hear a whine disappear somewhere in the back of his throat, but your brain is frying and you lose the thought on a moan. he switches sides and does the same.
“g-god…” you hiccup, hand shooting up to fist simon’s short hair. he looks up at you with his mouth on your tit, eyes sparkling. you pull at his hair and he grunts. you feel his teeth press harder to the sensitive bud. “simon.”
finally, he withdraws. your tits shine with his saliva in the hazy darkness, and they continue to bounce as simon fucks you into the mattress. his stamina will never not be impressive. another thing you’ll never admit to him, but is something you’re sure he already knows.
that best spot inside you is nailed a couple of times in quick, heavy succession and you let out a string of desperate noises: mainly whines and loud, pornographic moans of his name.
and he spurs your noises on. a myriad of praise drips directly from his mouth and into your brain, scattering around your skull and adding to the pleasure-induced delirium that threatens to overwhelm you with each rut of his cock.
“being so good for me, being so good,” he says between thrusts, breathing heavily. “i— fuckin’ hell, just like that, keep going. you’re doing so well, baby.”
“simon,” you practically beg. your hands grasp uselessly at his wrists, trying to find some sort of stability. your body seems to grow hotter as the rise of your orgasm begins— a sticky feeling that floods your veins, pools in the base of your spine and tracks over each vertebrae like ichor until you’re writhing against the sheets.
“uh huh?” he’s watching the way your pussy swallows his cock, slick dripping over your arse and onto the sheets. he looks up at you with dark eyes.
you huff. “wanna come.”
he grins— and you get flashbacks to him on the pitch. a cocky smirk filled with unconcealed pride, paired with a heaving chest and blood in his teeth. there’s no blood this time, but the thick expanse of his chest rises and falls and glistens with sweat, and his teeth gnash over his next words as he fights to speak over the wet squelches eliciting from your cunt.
“oh, s’all right, sweetheart. i’ll look after you, i promise. just be good for me an’ keep this pretty pussy nice an’ tight…”
a ridiculous statement to make, but it has your heartbeat migrating to your clit and a fawn-like mewl prancing out from the back of your throat.
simon’s thrusts don’t change in pace, but they grow deeper. you suck in a breath, millions of stars bursting behind your eyelids as you snap your eyes closed and chase your high. your hands fold away from his wrists as you get closer. you hear simon groaning under his breath.
“touch yourself, baby,” he tells you. “play with this pretty little clit while i fuck you.”
for just a moment, he removes one hand, still thrusting, and grabs one of yours, guiding it between your legs and forcing a couple of your fingers into your clit. he guides you in rubbing a couple of firm circles, before his hand is on your hip again.
whining, you begin to rub tighter circles as he watches. his cock is pumping in and out of you, a thin, creamy white ring building around the base.
“you’re always such a good listener,” he whispers to you. “y’gonna make such a good mama.”
he ruts his cock into you, deep and fast, rocketing you towards an orgasm as your fingers work, nearly cramping, over your puffy clit. you let out a sob, chasing the pleasure burning up hot inside you. spreading, spreading—
“i can fuckin’ feel you, sweet girl,” simon coos. “you want it so bad, huh? go on then, come for me.”
your orgasm hits you hot and hard. you tense up, arching high off the bed as pleasure shoots through you. your hand falls away, instead balling into a fist and gripping tightly at the sheets as your cunt gushes and locks around simon’s cock. you moan his name, cursing and panting as your orgasm ebbs and wanes like the tide, washing over you and slowly cooling the heat that has been cooking you alive since that fateful car ride home.
simon thrusts, getting slower and slower, pleasure weighing him down. but he’s a strong man. he holds you tightly, thumbs dimpling the softness of your tummy, as he fills you with his cock over and over. you’re so wet now that he almost slips out a couple of times, but he grunts and pushes in even harder— and soon, he’s teetering right on the edge of oblivion.
“si,” you call to him, bringing him home. “come inside me— wanna feel your cum inside me.”
“o-oh fuck,” simon gasps, then whines and hangs his head, keeling forward as he pushes himself in to the hilt and comes inside you. sweaty body colliding with yours, his pale skin burning.
you hum out another soft moan into his ear at the feeling of him filling you, and he responds with a tired bite to your shoulder as his hips finally still. muffling against your skin, he murmurs, “hope this one takes, baby.”
you tap him lightly on the back, taking a moment also to feel up the chiseled muscle that glows red hot like embers.
“don’t say that, si…” you murmur, shy as he sits back on his haunches, lifting himself up with his strong arms and pulling his softening cock out of you.
he watches, letting out a low whistle, as your pussy flutters, his cum leaking out in a milky rivulet. you groan, scrunching your eyes shut.
“oh, i’ll say it,” simon tells you, taking two fingers and gently collecting the cum and slick that dribbles from you. “‘cause i mean it. ‘bout time i put a kid in you— which means we can’t be wastin’ this.”
slowly, he pushes his fingers and the cum he’s collected back inside you. you wince slightly, whining both in pain and pleasure as he stuffs you full again, massaging along the silken walls of your cunt.
simon leans forward and presses a kiss to your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue. he licks inside, flicking over your teeth, and you kiss him back desperately as he rucks his fingers in and out of you. softly, in and out, curling up and around.
you whine into his mouth, and he shushes you. “uh-uh, s’alright, pretty girl, just a bit more. you can take a bit more for me, can’t you?”
he kisses you again so you can’t reply. his half-hard cock lays heavily over your thigh, wet and sticky, warm velvet across your skin. you feel it twitch when you suck on his tongue and when your pussy clenches around his fingers.
you feel another orgasm quickly building. a fire reignited, stoked back to a burning orange blaze. your lower tummy squeezes, tenses. your toes curl, legs twitching, hips jerking as simon’s fingers dig deeper and deeper still, until—
you grip onto his arms and come over his fingers. he groans quietly into your mouth, and you mewl like a cat as you come again, pussy spasming and gushing around the digits. he pulls back enough, just so he can watch your puffy pussy take him right down to his recently-split knuckles.
“good girl,” he says. “that’s better, isn’t it? no waste.”
you breathe deeply, staring up at the ceiling as simon collapses next to you, the weight of his body shaking the bed and dipping the mattress so much that you roll towards him. he always does this— taking the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and stick you directly to his sweaty chest. he pets your hair soothingly.
you chuckle into his chest. “that better not be the hand that was just inside me.”
“it is,” simon laughs too. “we can shower in a minute. s’okay.”
he kisses the top of your head. you kiss the fat curve of one of his pectorals. then, silence. a thick but comforting sort of silence as the two of you lay together, heartbeats syncing.
“you mean so much to me,” he suddenly says, and you angle your head to look up at him. “and i’m serious, by the way. i really am going to marry you.”
you smile, placing a kiss to his chin. “aw, you’re such a softie.”
a wolfish grin splits across his face and he pulls you even tighter to him, rolling so you’re practically crushed beneath him. he then peppers kisses across your face.
“wasn’t so soft a minute ago, was i?” he whispers against your lips.
#the odyssey
#art
#ao3
#star wars
