Work Text:
The morning comes in gently. Awakened by the vague shifting of sheets, and a light breeze floating across your shoulder, you press your eyes shut even tighter as you try to cling to sleep. Lord knows you need it.
Simon returned from a five month long mission last night. So rarely did everything go to plan, but he came back on the exact date as promised, safe and sound, save for a couple scrapes and bruises. Still, even when the mission goes right, Simon always comes back… off.
You know he has to get into a certain headspace when he works. Whatever person he has to become to save the world is not the Simon you married, but you’ve gotten to know him through the Simon that comes home to you. The last dregs of something cold and unfeeling are filtering through him, and you do your best to keep your house packed full of warmth and love for when he’s ready to receive it.
The two of you have worked out a solid routine when he comes home, and most of it is spent with you flittering around him so he doesn’t have to focus on too much. Simon stands in the kitchen while you swerve around him to make dinner; he stands next to the table and holds his plate while you sit and babble about the neighbors, he stands and dries the dishes while you wash, he stands in the shower while you brush your teeth in the bathroom, and he stands staring at his dresser drawers before you gently remind him to pick out a shirt for bed. Almost totally silent, the only noises you can rouse from him being soft uh huhs and sharp nos when you prompt him with simple questions about what he wants to do next. It would probably freak most people out, but it’s just him coming back to you, in his own way. You both know Simon never comes fully back to life until he gets his hands on you in bed.
In the beginning, you assumed that it was transitional, something to get his blood pumping one last time before returning to civilian life for a while. Sex with Simon comes in all kinds of shades, but only on nights when he returns from leave does it feel tactical, controlled. Once you pull him into bed something sparks inside of him, and where before he seemed to just passively exist in your home, he then suddenly seems to remember that he isn’t some kind of machine that is waiting stagnant for its next command. He can live and breathe and want, and he’s desperate to show it.
You know now that the motivation is two-fold. He needs this time to shock him system back to life, absolutely, but he also does it to prove to himself that he can create action that brings something other than violence or grief. The first few times this little reunion routine happened, you were so overwhelmed by his hands and mouth all over you that you failed to notice he wasn’t just worshipping, he was cataloging. Ensuring to himself that you were untouched by the horrors he just witnessed, that his hands which seem to be stained a permanent red aren’t just tools wasted on anything that isn’t destruction and pain. That his mouth isn’t just for barking commands, it’s also for kissing, and licking, and whispering dirty little things that make your eyes roll back. Here, with you, he can rejoice in sensation and taste in a way that blots out the haunting greyscale that seems to hang over him all the time. Not to say that he is exceptionally gentle with you, but you can’t say that you mind. You always liked it a little rough anyway.
This morning, you feel the edges of lingering soreness bone-deep, as well as a warm feeling between your legs that serves as a sticky reminder of how the previous night ended. You reach out for Simon and let out a whine when your fingers extend to still-warm sheets. He must have just gotten up. Your eyes crack open as you reach for the covers, only to freeze when you see he hasn’t gone far at all, he’s laying in between you legs, flashing a lazy grin at you that would normally have you melting if his thumb wasn’t swiping tight circles across your clit.
Everything snaps into technicolor. That sticky sweet feeling isn’t a phantom from last night, it’s very current and it’s lighting up your nerves one by one.
“Mm… Simon,” you breathe.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. “Been waitin’ for you to wake up.” You sigh into some deep breaths as his mouth dips down to lap at your heat, and just when you feel yourself relaxing back into the pillows, he shoves two fingers inside.
You jolt, wide awake, and whatever soreness is left from last night is now impossible to ignore. You squirm up and away from his fingers but those big hands just grab your hips and pull you further down the bed. Simon slides his fingers back in again and again until you’re writhing so much he deems it necessary to press his forearm across your stomach to hold you in place. You blink down at him through watery eyes and he’s doesn’t look back, eyes transfixed on how your pussy greedily takes what he gives. He adds a third finger. You whimper, and all he can offer to placate you is mindless shushing while your sleepy morning glow sharpens into something that sinks its teeth in.
“Shh… shush shush shush. C’mon sweetheart, you can take it.” Here is the Simon you’ve been waiting for. Last night he was closed off, but here he is open and needy and as vocal as he can be. You just thought you would have a few more hours until the switch fully flipped. “You ready for me? This sweet little cunt has been dripping all morning-“ How long was he touching you before you woke up? “-and I can’t wait any longer.”
Something reasonable in your mind tells you to stall, get him to prep you more, buy yourself some time to adjust before that thing in between his legs splits you in two for the second time in less than ten hours. But it’s early, you’re tired and you’re turned on and you’ve missed Simon so much you’ll take him in any way you can.
“Yeah, baby. I can take it,” you say, pulling at his arm to drag him up. “C’mon, please, I need you too.”
Simon doesn’t need much convincing, he is up and over you like a man starved, lining himself up with your entrance while his other hand smooths over your hip. You worry briefly that he’s too far gone to not just slam into you, and you’re so concerned with bracing for impact that you don’t realize how much you’re clenching around nothing until he shoves two fingers into you again.
“Gotta relax, love,” he coos down at you while you mewl and writhe under his hand. “You’re all warmed up for me, you gonna let me in?”
You nod and whine something like mmhm, even though you’re not sure how to fight your natural instinct to tense up for fear of pain. He pulls his fingers out and promptly sticks them in his mouth, and the sight of his eyes rolling back at the taste of you is enough to make your body get with the program. He lines you up once more and grinds his hips forward, pushing his cock into you.
The stretch is near blinding at first, but he’s quick to smooth a hand over your hair and run his thumb in circles over your hip. The overwhelming feeling of him being here is all consuming and you happily throw yourself into the thick of it because it is undeniably better than the alternative, seemingly endless nights spent alone, cold, and spiraling into wondering when or if he’ll come home. Even if the physical shock of this hurts a bit, you’d much rather be burnt by the sun than freeze under a dark empty sky. And despite everything Simon believes about himself, he’s much closer to the sun in your eyes than anything that casts shadows in the night.
Simon’s hips meet your ass and his head falls back as he lets out an exhale that deflates his whole chest. He starts to build up a steady rhythm and you can feel your body start to lean into the pleasure of it. The soreness fades as pleasure starts to lick up your spine and cloud your brain.
You want him to lean down and kiss you, but when you open your mouth to ask, all that comes out is panting and babbling moans. “Fuck, please baby… I- I wanna… nngh, I wanna… wanna…”
“Wanna what, sweetheart?” Simon rasps as he leans forward and pushes his nose to run under your jaw. He starts to press kisses down your neck and you hope the whine you let out communicates that he’s going in the wrong direction.
It doesn’t. “You’re gonna have to use your words,” his voice rumbles into the crook of your shoulder. You groan, frustrated, because you know very well that he knows you well enough to know exactly what you want, he just wants to hear you ask.
“Kiss me, Simon, please.”
You feel his smile on your skin before he moves up to oblige you.
He drops his elbows on either side of your head and presses his lips to yours with just a little more force than usual, the last hints of his come down from being away. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it all, hips slowing to roll into you with longer, lazier thrusts. He drops his head back to where your neck meets your shoulder, and it takes you a moment in your bliss to recognize that he’s murmuring something not exactly meant for you to hear, but you strain to catch it anyways.
“-you sweetheart. Love you so much. Fuck, I- I thought about you every damn day. Miss you more every time I’m out there-“
And that’s another thing about Simon fresh from deployment, he’s so tender. So incredibly honest about how deeply he feels for you, like he spent every second away trying to pick out the words to explain it, and he still wasn’t able to sort them all out. Sure the sex is always a bit rougher at the start, but he makes up for it in the way he holds you like water in his hands, talks to you like it is the last time he ever plans on speaking. You know Simon doesn’t pride himself on his speech, but that makes it all the more endearing to you when he can’t seem to stop himself, like these words are the absolute truth and he has no choice but to share them with you. You can’t imagine a better gift.
Lost in your appreciation for this man who has dedicated himself to you so entirely, you nearly miss how he’s picked up the pace, and your orgasm creeps up on you faster than you expected. Your moans pitch up to warn Simon, but he’s way ahead of you, already moving a hand under your thigh to lift it up and back towards your chest. Words can’t seem to stop floating out of you, either.
“Simon, I missed you so much. I love you, so much, oh my god… oh my god, yes, baby… you’re so good to me, please come with me, I want you to come with me pleasepleaseplease-“
He grips you tighter as you reach the top of your peak, your ears ringing a bit as Simon slams into you once, twice, three times before grinding to a halt and clinging to you as you feel his come spill inside of you.
He pulls back incrementally as you both start to catch your breath, but you quickly wrap your arms around his back as tight as you can.
“No wait, just stay, you’re comfy.” It comes out a little jumbled, as your cheek is smushed into his shoulder, but he understands. He is unquestionably stronger than you, but he humors your attempt at locking him in and doesn’t fight your hold.
“Love, I’ll crush you, let me hold you like this.” He purposefully doesn’t elaborate so you can let him show you.
“…Fine.” You huff as Simon moves onto his side and pulls your back flush against his chest. “Okay.” You settle into his arms a bit. “This is nice.”
“Told you.”
You want to leave it at that, maybe fall back asleep for a bit, but you know you can’t nod off without stroking your ego a bit.
“Did you really think about me every day?” You try to ask casually but you know you’ve failed when his arms tighten around you and his smile presses into your shoulder.
“You know that I did.”
You give a dreamy little sigh that makes him chuckle while you scoot back into him and tangle your legs together.
“I’m so happy you’re home.”
“Me too.”