slow cook
john price x fem!reader x aelin price (OC) x simon riley| mafia!au | alternate universe to In Limbo
invitation
cw: dub-con, voyeurism, smut, mommy/daddy kink
London looks small from the roof.
Legs bent over the edge, Simon's fingers pinch a cigarette as he stares at the traffic pulsing beneath him. Everyone looks like ants. Tiny beings he could crush on a whim if the desire even whispered against the shell of his ear.
Instead, he crushes the filter of his cigarette as he puts it out on the old brick next to him. Ashes smolder as the tobacco lingers on his fingers. He savors the taste just long enough to feel his heart rate spike before his phone chimes in his pocket.
John Price: Have you seen Aelin? When you find her, tell her I need to see her in my office.
Scoffing, he decides it's about time he get back to work.
Simon has long since learned not to question the relationship that strings between his boss and his wife. It's only lead to headaches and curious questions that gets his blood flowing in places that it shouldn't.
Still, like the dutiful dog he is, he goes searching for the illusive Aelin Price, who always seems to wiggle her way around Terminus better than he can. She's not found in the sea of bodies on the dance floor or hanging around the bar with those fruity drinks she always likes. The pool tables are sparse at best, and the second floor is missing her poorly stifled giggles.
Frustrated, he makes a beeline for the private rooms, annoyed with himself that it wasn't the first place he bothered to check. The gilded door handle is smudged with fingerprints, giving Simon hope that he'll find who he's been looking for, but his heart sinks when he realizes the door is unlocked. Convinced he's at another dead end, he perseveres through the short hallway that lies just beyond the door where he finds—
—you, splayed out on your back, stripped naked with your body on the cold marble floor.
He sees your perked nipples and the way your breasts sway with the heat of your breathing and the sight alone glues his feet to the ground. Knees bent, he notes the way your hands rest between your thighs, whimpering as someone slurps at your cunt. His eyes widen; eyes dilate, but his stomach drops when the door slams shut behind him and your neck cranes up to look at him.
With parted lips, he can hardly make out your curse "F-Fuck."
"What is it, Riley?"
Aelin Price slithers up from your legs like a charmed snake from her place kneeling in the conversation pit below you. Unlike you, she's clothed still, but Simon's not sure that helps the situation as she wipes her face on the back of her hand, smearing fluid and red lipstick along her skin.
"John's lookin' for ya," he shares stiffly. He can't take his eyes off of you. Not the way you squirm beneath his gaze, or how you use your arms to pitifully attempt to cover yourself.
"I'm a little busy at the moment," Aelin says, nonchalant. As if pretending Simon isn't witnessing her actions, Aelin's hand slides up the inside of your legs before her fingers find their way home inside of you. He watches your body shiver and legs quake around her, threatening to crush her. "Tell him I'll find him once I'm finished with this."
"But, Aelin…"
Your voice is timid. So soft Simon can hardly hear it over the distant thrumming of the club music pulsing behind him. Aelin doesn't seem to be as enamored by your words as he is, though. Brows raising in challenge, she tilts her head to the side as her fingers cease their movements inside of you.
"What was that?" she questions.
"I-I'm sorry, Mummy. I didn't—ah…"
"Go on, Riley." Aelin's fingers are in your mouth now, smothering your words as she pets the top of your tongue. "Though, you're welcome to stick around and watch, if you want."
Yanking himself out of that room feels like trying to wake himself up from a dream. Sluggish legs stumble through the VIP section while lights flash in his face, filling his eyes with visions of you. His mouth is dry, and the urge to drink something up overwhelms him enough to knock the wind from his lungs.
His brain doesn't seem to restart again until he's outside, pretending to stand guard at the VIP entrance as he sneaks his cigarettes from his pocket. He fires off a quick message to John on the whereabouts of his wife, but for his own sake leaves out any of the finer details before puffing away on nicotine while praying the cold night air will do the same for his body as a cold shower would.
Nothing seems to work. He still thinks about Aelin's offer to stick around, and though he hates it, he can't help but entertain what would've happened if he obliged. What your face would've looked like when you came, how hard you would've squirmed, how sweetly you would've sang…
"I'll be honest, I didn't expect to find you out here."
Aelin finds Simon half an hour later, still smoking, like he could suffocate his thoughts on tobacco alone. As usual, she's perfectly dressed without a hair out of place. Her lipstick has been reapplied with crisp lines that delicately follow the curve of her lips as she approaches him with her arms crossed to fight off the cold.
"Where else would I be?" Simon deadpans.
"Well, I suppose a part of me was hoping you'd be right outside the door waiting like a good boy." It's the first time in a long time that Simon's been stunned into silence. Once she's close enough to reach him, Aelin plucks his cigarette from between his fingers and takes a long drag for herself. "She's cute, isn't she? Our pet?"
Unsure if it's a trick question or not, all he can do is cautiously nod.
"John and I don't mind sharing, you know," she continues. She takes one more drag before pinching the cigarette between her fingers as if it were a dart. "You know where to find us if you ever want to play."
Aelin places Simon's vice back between his lips before ducking inside the building where the warmth envelopes her. As the door swings shut with a squeak, he breathes deep but pauses when he realizes he can taste you on the filter of his cigarette.
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