heyyy, i saw this picture on twitter and it got me thinking… what do you think simon would be like sleeping next to the reader? would he ever actually do that? especially with all the touch stuff and everything… just something that crossed my mind and now i can’t stop thinking about it lmaoo
i already told you how much i loved this fic, it’s a masterpiece!💞
Satellites (Simon x Reader)
Summary: Eight months into dating your boyfriend Simon, his brother has to go to a friend’s wedding out of town. Simon has never spent a night alone in the apartment, and he doesn’t intend to start now. And although you’ve been sleeping with him for a while, you’re about to learn that sleeping with Simon, in his room, in his bed, is a whole different level of intimacy.
Word Count: 4191
Warnings: Soft-dom!reader, oral sex m!receiving, PiV unprotected sex
MDNI, fic under the cut
“You can’t run even a minute over.” Sam says, tapping the edge of Simon’s activity chart.
“I know.”
“I mean it. The second it hits the hour, it’s his turn.”
“I got it, Sam.”
“He’ll walk right in on you in the shower.”
You shoot him a pointed look. “That wouldn’t bother me like it bothers you.”
A pretty pink blushes spreads over Sam’s face. “Right.” He clears his throat. Despite the fact that you’ve been dating his little brother for eight months, Sam still cant quite get his head around it. Because Simon is great, no question. He’s fantastic, and thoughtful and kind in his own, unique way. But he’s unique. Sam had never thought his brother would find a person who could understand his needs and be with him without trying to fix him. But here you are, and you love Simon in a way that makes Sam’s own heart ache with happiness. “You’re going to be fine, aren’t you?”
You smile and lean in to nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “Better than fine.”
You don’t see your boyfriend hovering in the doorway, not at first. But Simon watches the way his brother’s face softens as he looks at you, and he takes in the easy way you step forward to nudge against Sam’s chest, and his own chest burns with an unwanted aching feeling.
“Alright. I’ll stop worrying. Out loud.”
You roll your eyes and catch sight of Simon’s tall frame in the hall. “Oh hey.” Your smile is easy as you cross the room and tilt your head up to offer him your mouth. And Simon might be feeling weird, might have an ugly churning in his stomach, but he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to press his lips against yours as he ducks down to lock your mouth with his own. You sigh into his mouth, and that used to gross him out but now it sends a bolt of heat to Simon’s cock like you’ve conditioned him to like it. Because you sigh like that when he’s fucking into you, and even the ghost of your breath in his mouth reminds him of how good it feels to bury himself inside you.
“Alright. Get a room, you two.” Sam says, but there’s a smile on his face even as he pointedly doesn’t look at his little brother. Simon ignores him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face and tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss. French kissing, you called it. Simon still didn’t love the slippery feeling of your tongue on his, but he loved the way you melted against him. And right now he liked that Sam could hear the wet sound of you kissing him. Like a reminder that you’re his, Simon’s. That Sam can have everything else, any other girl in the world. But he can’t have you.
“We have a room.” Simon says when you break the kiss, high spots of colour on your pretty cheeks as you look up at him with a glazed expression. “My room. We are going to be staying in it tonight, Sam.”
Sam huffs a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t need to know the gory details. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
You laugh and Simon feels annoyed all over again. “There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do. You do everything with everyone.”
The smile slips from Sam’s face, and Simon knows he should feel bad about what he said. The look on your face tells him as much. But his blood is thrumming too hard under his skin and he feels hot and itchy all over.
“Simon,” you say softly. And Simon doesn’t want you to be angry with him, and he doesn’t want Sam to be angry with him either. And he doesn’t want either of you to look at him like you’re looking at him now. So he slips past you and climbs into the shelter of his ship, pulling the hatch closed on quiet safety as he breathes hard and wraps his arms around his knees.
“What just happened?” You ask Sam in a whisper.
“I don’t… I’m not completely sure. Could you give us a minute?”
You don’t want to leave when Simon needs you, but you have to concede that his brother knows him a whole lot better than you do, so you nod and go into the kitchen to make an anxious cup of tea. Just to have something to do with your hands, and to stop you from eavesdropping at the door.
““Earth to Simon, come in Simon, over.”
Simon lifts his hand like he’s going to reply, but the words won’t come. He doesn’t know how to explain that his blood is too hot.
“Earth to Simon, come in Simon, over.”
Simon swallows against a lump in his throat, lifting his walkie talkie with shaking fingers. “This is Simon, over.”
“Ground control requesting explanation for unplanned space exploration, over.”
“I…” Simon cuts himself off.
“Ground control suggesting it’s too soon for solo mission. Cancelling solo mission, over.”
And Simon feels a fresh surge of panic far worse than the cloying lump in his throat. He rises, the hatch of his ship clattering to the ground as he comes face to face with his brother. “No.”
“No?” “No, Sam. You have to go.”
“No I don’t.” Sam says softly. “Not if it’s too much.”
Simon frowns. “Mark is getting married. You like Mark.”
“I like you more.” Sam teases. “It’s okay if you’re not ready for this.”
Simon’s eyes slip past his brother to the hallway and he hopes you’re not listening. “I am ready for it.”
“Then what was that about?”
Simon sighs. “I don’t like the way you talk to her. My girlfriend.”
And of all the things Sam had been expecting, this wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Because he’d been nothing but attentively, painfully nice to you, hadn’t he?
“I’m nice to her. I don’t… what do you mean?”
Simon feels a flash of heat jolt through him and he wonders if he’s blushing. “You’re too nice to her. You touch her and you make her laugh and I don’t like it. It makes me angry, Sam.”
And the pieces click for Sam as he looks at his brother. His wrecked little brother, who is feeling too many things and doesn’t have the bandwidth to process them all. He’s jealous.
“Simon.” He says softly. “I don’t mean to make you angry. She’s a friend, that’s all. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stay away from her from now on.”
And Simon is supposed to disagree and tell him that he can be friends with you, but he doesn’t want to.
“Yes. That would be good. Thank you.”
“Alright.” Sam suppresses a sigh. “I’ll go and tell her you’re okay. She’s making tea I think.”
You look up when Sam enters the kitchen, a pained smile on his face.
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Sam clears his throat, crossing the kitchen to dip his head low to yours so he can talk quietly. “He’s jealous. Of me and you.”
You blink at Sam. “There is no me and you.”
Sam shrugs. “I know that and you know that. Simon sees us laughing or hugging or anything like that, and he thinks I’m trying to steal you from him.”
And it’s stupid, but it’s Simon. “Oh. Well, I guess we don’t do that stuff anymore.”
Sam nods, feeling absurdly grateful that you see it that way. “I still like you a lot.”
You grin. “I like you too. But we both like Simon more, don’t we?”
You watch your boyfriend run through the last sequence of his drumming practice. He has his headphones on and his eyes closed, and his expression is so pretty and serene that you have to fight the urge to climb over his drum kit and kiss his pretty mouth. He wouldn’t appreciate the interruption, not when his routine is so important. So you perch on the edge of his bed and you watch quietly, memorizing the veiny flex of his hands on the sticks and the way he sucks his bottom lip gently into his mouth as he concentrates.
When he’s finished, his eyes open and his lips turn up into a small smile. “You were listening to me?”
“You’re getting so good.”
Simon’s smile splits into a grin then. “I am. I’m getting approximately eight percent better each week.”
“Oh, I can tell.” You smirk at him, and Simon’s face heats.
“Do you want to play cards?”
Your smirk softens at the way he’s trying to change the subject, and you nod. “Come here, then.”
Simon gets up from behind his drumkit, putting his headphones carefully back on their hook before sitting beside you on the bed. You turn to him, eyes dropping to his mouth for a moment. “Cards?”
“What?” Simon’s voice is thick as his eyes fix to the movement of your lips.
“Cards, Simon. We can’t play without cards.”
Simon is competitive, and he’s very bad at losing. These are things you’d known already, but it’s a little annoying and a lot funny to watch him get heated and he berates you for getting things wrong.
“I’m bored of this, Simon.”
“Because I’m winning.”
“No, it-“
“Yes. I’ve won every game so far.”
“No I mean, yes you have. But the game is boring. Can we play something else?”
Simon frowns. “Snap?”
“Snap.” You agree, taking the cards from his hands and shuffling the deck. “Shall we make it more interesting?”
And that’s how you end up sitting across from your boyfriend in just your bra and jeans, whilst Simon remains fully clothed minus his socks. Because he really is good at card games. But unfortunately for him, you’re not above playing dirty. You sigh, arching your spine slowly and pushing your breasts out as Simon slaps his hand down on another winning round. “Sn-ap.” He stutters out the word as his eyes fix on your chest.
“Oh, damn.” You mumble, reaching around to unclasp your bra and letting it drop into your lap. “You win again, Simon.”
And Simon’s mind slows down as he drinks in every bare inch of you, the way your nipples harden in the cool air of the room, the soft curves of your breasts. “I’m… I win every game.”
“Yeah, you do.” You coo, your voice low and melodic as you fix him with a hungry gaze.
No one in the history of the universe has had a faster fall from the top than Simon does during this game of strip-snap. He can’t focus on the cards even as he himself puts them down, and his hands shake with every piece of clothing he’s forced to drop to the floor. It isn’t long at all until he’s down to his boxers, and his erection strains against the front of them in a way that makes your mouth water.
“Snap,” you call, and Simon’s head drops to watch your fingers slap over the cards.
“I… I wasn’t ready. That wasn’t, I-“
“You lost, Simon. Take them off.”
And you actually won’t make him, if he really doesn’t want to. But his cheeks are flushed as he tugs on the bottoms of his boxers, his cock curving up towards his stomach as he lifts his ass and drops the last piece of his clothing onto the floor. Your eyes drop immediately, tongue darting over your bottom lip as you take in the sticky head of his cock throbbing against his abdomen.
“I win,” you say softly.
“Yes.” Simon swallows thickly. “And what now?”
You slide off the bed, settling on your knees beside him, and he twists around to face you. “Legs open.” You say, tapping his knee. He unfolds his legs and drops them over the edge of the bed either side of you, baring his cock and the soft skin of his thighs to you.
“You have such a pretty cock, you know that?”
Simon feels dizzy, blood pounding in his ears. He can’t process your words, he can’t make sense of anything you say when you’re so close he can feel the electricity of your skin charging against his. “You know how much I like having you in my mouth, right?”
Simon nods then, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you lean in to press a kiss to his tip. “How much I love being with you. How much I love you.”
Simon whines as you trace his slit with your tongue, pinned under the heavy weight of your gaze. You’re not even touching him anywhere really, but Simon is laser-focused on the sharp point of your tongue flicking against the most sensitive part of him. “How you’re the only one for me. I don’t want anyone else, Simon. Even if it seems like I’m too close to your brother, it’s just friends. Always.”
“Sam told you.” Simon feels a hot sting of betrayal lance through him, but then you lick a stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip, and he groans.
“He cares about you. And wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.” You suction your mouth over the leaking head of his cock and look up at Simon through your lashes, watching the way his face slackens and then contorts in pleasure as his hips lift off the bed.
“I- I don’t like it.”
You release him with a wet pop, gripping around the base of his cock with your thumb and forefinger. “You don’t like this?”
Simon whines, hips lifting to nudge his tip against your mouth. “No, I do. I feel…”
You lick gently at his slit, tasting the salt of his precum.
“I feel s-sick, when you’re with him.”
You flatten your tongue against the underside of his sensitive head, dragging the delicate skin back and forth over his tip before pressing your lips to him in a gentle kiss.
“I only want you, Simon.”
Simon swallows. “I know. But I don’t… always know that.”
“Well,” you say softly, “let me convince you.”
Simon’s head drops back against the mattress as you sink his length into your throat, humming low around him until he hisses.
You let the head of his cock press into your throat for a moment, and Simon makes a strangled, almost pained sound in the back of his throat as his fingers curl into your hair and push your head against him so he can fuck up into your mouth.
Your gag reflex kicks in and you work hard to control it as your throat spasms around his cock.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, loosening his grip on your hair so you can pull back.
“S’okay,” you mumble, your lips numb from the rough back-and-forth drag of his length. “I wanna… can I ride you?”
Simon sucks in a breath. This has happened twice in the eight months you’ve been together, and both times had left him feeling too overstimulated and trapped much too quickly. But your mouth is all swollen and red from his cock, and you’re looking at him with such unbridled want that he can only nod his head. “I… yes. Okay.”
You hum, pointing at his headboard. “Want you to get comfortable, Simon.”
He shuffles back, resting against the firm headboard and wincing as his cock brushes against his stomach. Simon is already feeling the itch under his skin, knows how much worse it’s going to get when you’re sitting on him, but he has to try. He has to at least try for you. And that’s progress, because a few months ago he wouldn’t have been able to do it. You crawl onto the bed and straddle his thighs, holding your weight up on your knees as you reach for his hand and press his fingers to your core. “See how wet I am for you? All for you, y’know?”
Simon swallows, his fingers brushing against the slick arousal and coming away sticky.
“You know it’s all for you, don’t you?”
And Simon realizes that you expect an answer even though his mouth doesn’t work and his brain is shortcircuiting.
“Yes.” He breathes out, and you reward him by lifting higher and positioning the fat, leaking head of his cock at your entrance. Simon can feel your muscles fluttering just barely, and his pulse thunders in his ears.
Simon is smart. He doesn’t always catch tone or sarcasm or get inside jokes, but he can figure things out faster than most people. And he’s figuring out what you want from him now. “You want me. Just me, Simon.”
You hum as you sink down on his cock, the thick length pulsing against the tight, wet heat of your body. “Never anyone else.” You whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his.
“Just me. You just want…” he breaks off, hands dropping to your hips to push you further down and settling your weight against him. And it should make him feel trapped and shaky, but with his hands controlling your motion, it doesn’t. Simon can focus on the way you quiver around him and the drag of his tip against your walls as you rock back and forth.
“Just you. Not Sam,” you breathe, “not anyone. Just you, Simon.”
Simon whimpers as you lean your weight onto your knees and lift half off his cock before dropping back down.
“I… can’t,” he groans. And you know instinctively that he’s going to cum. After just a few moments of this.
“That’s okay,” you whisper. “That’s okay, Simon. You can cum inside me. I want you to.”
Simon’s eyes roll back and his head thumps against the headboard as he grinds his hips up to meet yours, not caring that your arousal is soaking his balls and staining his sheets.
He cums with a low moan of your name, and the sound is so pretty that you feel your own release winding tight. You clench your muscles around his cock and lean forward to drag your clit against his pelvis, groaning at the friction as you ride him through his high.
Simon’s hands lift to your hair, tangling in it to pull your face to his so he can pant harshly into your mouth and taste the heat of your lips as you shudder through your own orgasm, fluttering around his length and grinding your clit mindlessly against him.
You lean back but don’t release his cock from inside you. “You convinced, Simon?”
Simon can only stare at you, face flushed and feeling completely ruined. You raise an eyebrow, clenching lightly around his cock, and he winces.
“Yes. Yes, I’m convinced.”
Simon’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you return, rubbing a towel over your wet hair. “Hey.”
He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, but his eyes reman fixed on his own knees as you approach. You step right up to him, your bare toes almost touching his socks, and still he doesn’t look at you.
“Simon,” you say softly, as softly as you can. But he still doesn’t look up, and you feel anxiety coil in your stomach. Had you taken things too far? Been too forceful with him? He’d seemed into it, but-“
“Have I upset you?”
Simon does look up then, his brows knitting together over his eyes. “No.”
“Then why are you so quiet?”
Simon shrugs, and you tentatively lift a hand to brush your fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch just a little. “I don’t know how to sleep with you.”
You raise an eyebrow, letting your fingers trail over his jaw. “Sure you do. We do it… all the time.”
Simon’s breathing hitches when your thumb brushes lightly over his bottom lip, and you glance down to watch as his cock starts to thicken and press against his boxers. “I mean sleep. In the same bed together.”
“Okay.” You release his jaw and sit beside him, and Simon is painfully, viscerally aware of how close you are and how good you smell and how you’re wearing a tiny tank top and your panties. “Talk me through it.”
Simon licks his lips, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the way his cock is twitching at the heat and proximity of you.
“There are too many variables.” He says softly, his voice a little gravelly as he fights the urge to peel your shirt up so he can watch the rise and fall of your chest without the barrier.
“Okay.” Your own breathing hitches at the way he’s looking at you, like you can feel his eyes slipping underneath the fabric to trace over your bare curves. It’s intense, the way Simon watches you. With the uninhibited freedom of a person who doesn’t know he isn’t supposed to stare. “Explain them, Simon.”
Simon hums. “What if you snore?”
You roll your eyes. “I don’t snore.”
“But what if you do? And it keeps me awake?”
“You can wake me up and I’ll go sleep on the couch.”
Simon nods. “What if you need the bathroom in the night and can’t get out of the bed? You’ll be sleeping on that side, against the wall.”
“I’ll climb over you very carefully, Simon. And besides, I’ll use the bathroom before we go to sleep and I won’t need to get up in the night.”
“What if you roll onto my arm and trap me.”
You can’t stop yourself from scoffing at that. “You can wake me up if I trap you, Simon.”
“What if I get hard in my sleep? That…” he clears his throat. “That happens sometimes.”
You bite your lip and tilt your head to the side. “You can wake me up for that, too.”
Simon whines as you lean in to kiss his cheek, his cock straining so hard against the front of his boxers that he wonders whether the button will simply pop off.
“M-morning breath,” he stammers, and you pull away from his face to glare at him. “Simon.”
“Even if we brush our teeth before we sleep, a natural decrease in saliva production will cause a breakdown of-“
“Simon.” You cut him off, pinching his chin lightly between your thumb and forefinger. “We will get up right away and brush our teeth before anything else. I won’t kiss you or speak or get too close until we’re clean. Okay?”
Simon swallows, his eyes dropping to your mouth. “Okay.”
But he doesn’t look okay, and you sigh as you lean away from him. It’s an act of mercy, and Simon visibly relaxes when you’re not so close.
“We can be close without touching, Simon.”
“It… the bed is small.”
You glance back at his twin mattress. “You know about satellites, right?”
Simon’s eyes lift to meet yours. “Obviously. I know everything there is to know. I know more than you do.”
You smirk. “Yeah I know you do, genius. Satellites regularly cross paths with each other in orbit, don’t they?”
Simon’s mouth twists to the side. “Yes. But their trajectories are planned. There aren’t so many variables. And they’re usually flying at completely different altitudes.”
“Right. And Space Forces all over the world track satellites to make sure there are no collisions, don’t they?”
Simon nods.
“So if I’m getting too close or you need more space, you can just… course correct.”
Simon nods again, shuffling down the bed and settling his head against the pillow. You follow his lead, crawling to the far side and rolling onto your side to face him. “This okay?”
Simon lies flat on his back, but he turns his head to look at you and feels his heartrate pick up at how pretty you look against his sheets. “This is okay.”
“And you’ll wake me up if you need anything. Even if you just need me to move.”
Simon swallows, nodding. “And you’ll still… you won’t be angry with me if I do?”
You hum softly as if you’re considering it. “No, I won’t be angry. And I’ll still love you. From way, way over here.”
Your lips quirk into a smile that makes Simon’s stomach flutter, and he turns his head the other way to switch off the lamp beside his bed.
You listen to the steady sounds of his breathing and feel the warmth radiating off his skin and close your eyes. Tonight had gone well, and you were pretty sure your boyfriend had been thoroughly reassured of how much you like him. But there was always room for the nagging concern of anxiety, because Simon could be pretty hard to read.
You jump slightly at the feeling of his fingers brushing against yours and turn your head, but he’s not looking at you. His eyes are closed as his pinkie finger hooks around yours, anchoring you to him in a tiny, meaningful way.
And you think he’s fallen asleep like that, until you hear him whisper “I love you,” into the dark.
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