Archive of Our Own

It went like this. At first there'd been the pictures, weirdly hot shots of a hand down basic cotton underwear, a soft belly and cream white thighs. Simon hadn't known her then but the lyrics that came with the pics had convinced him she was a genius, a weird wild girl with a thing for polaroids. He'd liked that too, the polaroids. It meant his were the only copies of the pictures she sent, that no other asshole had access to her in quite the same way, and he'd enjoyed that. For months he'd gotten hard on buses and park benches, in the back of the van and in a couple of shitty diners, gotten himself off in restrooms and back alleys and tried to parse from the few regular girls attending PSYOPS shows which was the one he kept thinking of while fucking bored suburban moms and random friends of Danny's. He found groupies tiresome as a rule, and if she'd turned out to be any of the thrill-seeking girls the boys liked to lay down after shows he'd have been fucking disappointed.

Patty, though, when they got down to it, didn't disappoint.
“Violate me,” she said, and that alone would have gotten him hard if he'd not already been there a while, about since she'd started kissing him.
He did as she asked, pushed a hand up her skirt and pulled her tights down, got to feel her cunt through the fucking cotton panties he'd been jerking off to for so long. Patty moaned in his mouth as soon as his thumb found her clit, pushed harder against his hand with no self-consciousness or restraint and it killed him. Girls liked to put on a show when he fucked them, to overdo it or to pretend they were giving in rather than asking for it, to play coy and hold in the noise he pushed out of them. Patty didn't care. He wasn't sure she'd understand the point of faking, and he sure as fuck wasn't gonna be the one to explain it to her, not when it made his cock twitch like that.

“Get your fucking shirt off.”
“You too, Simon.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that's fair.” His hood fell off in the process but by that point he assumed Patty wouldn't mind, her hand was pulling his hair, pushing him down to her tits as if she thought maybe he wouldn't find them on his own. He swiped his tongue around her nipple until it grew hard, then wrapped his lips around it. She'd been moaning before but she was panting now, weird little gasps that went straight to his cock every time he brought teeth to the game. Simon got rid of her soaked underwear and pushed two fingers up her cunt, found her wet and wide open for him, felt her entire body buck up under his. He stroked up inside her, still sucking on her tits as she did her best to rip his hair out. He didn't think he'd get off on the pain, it wasn't usually his kind of thing, but the unbridled force with which she was holding on to his scalp was doing things to him. He let go of her hips to slide a hand down to his cock, get some fucking relief before he came in his pants like a fucking tween.

“Wait. Simon. Stop.”
He stopped. He was every kind of asshole but that one and he'd fucking off himself before he ever hurt her, she was so fucking trusting. He slid his fingers out and raised his head from her tits. The red flush of her cheeks and the lust in her eyes would fuel his fantasies for years no matter what happened next, but he still made an effort to breathe in and calm down.
“Yeah?”
“I don't want to come on your fingers,” Patty said, like it was a normal fucking thing to tell him, which sure in context it was, but still. Simon nodded, got out of his jeans as fast as he fucking could while she laid there petting herself idly, watching him roll a condom on.
“That's big,” she said, and it went straight to his ego, though he doubted she had much to compare it with.
“Yeah. You've done this before, right?”
Virginity could get fucked, as a concept, right along with purity and all that bullshit, but still if he was her first he'd make an effort to go slow, to rein in the urge to just have at her until she screamed out for him.

Patty stopped touching herself and looked away with the same expression she'd worn before, when he'd mentioned fucking while they were shooting hoops. Her faced closed off and turned sad, and Simon would have to fucking go and kill some asshole later, once he got that story out of her.
“Yes,” she said eventually, “but I think you'll be nicer.” She said it with so much fucking hope in her voice that of course Simon went slow, did his best to be better than whatever shit stain had come before him and made her feel that way about the whole thing. He laid on his back and put a hand on her thigh, gestured for her to straddle him and lined his dick up with her cunt, then watched her sink on it. She was so fucking beautiful he could have cried, or come, except he focussed on her instead, on the little gasp she let out when his head pushed in, and the dopey fucking smile on her face.

“Alright?” he asked, though he could see she was more than alright, apart from the fact he could feel her drenched and hot around him Patty's tits were hard and her eyes blown up, and she'd started humming something, her fingers drawing circles on his stomach.
“Yeah Simon, alright,” she grinned. “You feel a lot better than Kevin.”
“Oh fuck off. Not now.”
“You laughed,” she frowned lightly down at him with the same little smile on her face she'd had at the diner and he couldn't help but smile back, though it took much of his brain power to stay still.
“Fucking sue me. Go on now Patty, move, I can't fucking take it anymore. Feels so fucking tight.”
“Okay.” She rolled her hips tentatively slow and his hands moved to grab her thighs, just so he'd have something to hold on to as she fucked herself on him, slow at first and then faster, hard enough that he felt free to buck up into her and match her rhythm, to finally get hold of her hips and flip them over so he could push harder into the heat of her, turn her moans into gasps into screams, into some fucking incoherent babble that made him lose his fucking mind. She laughed when she came, right after she was done screaming, and that's what did him in, sent him spilling into her in a dizzying sort of white out that never happened when he jerked himself off and fairly rarely when he actually fucked someone.

Afterwards he got to play for her and give her lyrics life, got her to sing for him, and that actually brought him to tears. Then of course his mom came home and shit got real tense real fast, but that was family for you and at least Patty stood up for him, though that also turned into a real shit show. Later that day after the boys fucking turned him in she sucked his face through the window of a cop car, left him hard and wanting to go get fucking processed and jailed but Simon found he wasn't even that mad about it. She was his real girlfriend now.

Jail fucking sucked, of course, but every week he called and she picked up and that along with her letters made it bearable. She'd given him her Polaroid when Danny'd driven her up to visit, and though he hadn't been about to tell her that in front of his fucking kid brother, he'd known then and there what he'd use it for. It was his turn to send her fucking thirst traps, and fuck the prison cop who had to look at his spilling cock every other week, the asshole probably got a kick out of it anyway.
“Simon?” she asked through the tinny distorted sound of the line, and it was still the best thing he'd heard all week. He should have gotten tired of the way she said his name like a question every time, like she thought maybe he'd change his mind about who he was, but he hadn't. The question felt genuine somehow, like every fucking thing about her, and that really did it for him. No games, no pretence, just her insane fucking genius brain.
“Yeah?”
“When you get out, will you violate me again?”
“You make me sound like a worse asshole than I am you know?”
“I don't think you're an asshole Simon, but will you?”
“Yeah. Fuck, yes.” He'd been thinking about it nonstop for months. “Anyway you want it.”
“Oh. That's good.”
That's good. How the fuck was that all it took for him to get hard in a prison phone booth?
“Hey, Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“D'you wanna hear my new song?”
He wanted to hear more about how she wanted it and whether she got herself off thinking of him as often as he did, but Patty put fucking on the same level as everything else she liked, which she was right about really, fucking punk of her actually not to turn sex into some holy fucking thing, but still. He'd been inside a year now, and he missed it.
“Fuck yeah,” Simon managed to ignore his fucking dick. He'd deal with it later, not like Lloyd could complain. “Yeah I want to hear your new song. Bet it's fucking tits too. Go on then, we've only got five minutes left.”

“So.” He was back in Patty's room after eighteen months away and it still looked the same. She did too, though with a little more make up on and tighter clothes, and something more like confidence in the way she held herself.
“I thought they'd cut your hair in prison, you know? I'm glad they didn't.”
Seeing as her hand was currently wrapped in it, Simon was inclined to agree. He kissed her instead of replying, because he fucking could and her lips were very red. She'd get the idea.
“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you violate me now?”
“Sure,” he tightened his grip on her ass, pulled her cunt closer to his dick. “How'd you want it?”
“I don't know,” Patty shrugged. She was wearing some sort of skintight top that made him want to come on her tits, never mind that the thing was violently neon green.
“See, I don't believe you. You didn't spend two years thinking of me with your hand up your cunt without at least getting a few ideas.”
“I didn't know it was you,” she blushed as she said it, and Simon grinned.
“Still.”
“Okay. Yes. You're right, I do have ideas.”
“Tits. Let's hear 'em then.”

“Well. Remember when we were at the diner and I said you could kiss me?”
“M-hm.”
“And before you did you sort of licked all your fingers?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you do that to me? Down there?”

He'd been told before he fucked like he ate, which was like a fucking animal, all eagerness and no finesse, but the fact was he didn't care about most people he fucked and they saw him as nothing more than a bad boy thrill to tell their shitty little friends about, so yeah. Yeah, he'd fucked most of them with contempt, gotten his rocks off and left them reeling from the rage he put into it, which was exactly what they'd asked for anyway. Patty, though. She insisted on his being good which was fucking delusional on a good day, but she actually got him like no one else ever had so he'd do his best to be good to her. He'd lick her cunt like a dog cleared a plate, suck on her clit until she could take no more and...
“Simon?”
“Yeah.”

He focussed back on the reality of her, her mouth so close to his and her cunt lined up against his hardening cock, the hungry look in her eyes. “Yeah, I could fucking do that to you. Fuck. Come on then.”
He lifted her off his lap and spared a thought for the months he'd spent inside pushing iron to ward off the boredom, considered that maybe it had all been worth the delighted laugh she let out when he laid her down on her bed and set about peeling the leggings off of her, some truly offensive piece of sparkling purple fabric that made her ass look great and his eyes burn.

“Fuck me.”
“What?”
“Since when do you not wear underwear?” He'd grown used to the stripes and dots of her usual panties, actually enjoyed the contrast between her fingering herself thinking of him and the girlish look of them.
“Oh. I didn't like how the lines looked through my pants. Don't you like it?” she asked it like she knew exactly what the sight of her bared cunt was doing to him, and he confirmed then and there that he still loved it when she fucked with him.
“I'm not complaining.” He'd never tell her about G-strings or skin-fucking-tight lingerie, not if it meant he could spend his time watching her ass wondering how many layers there were between the world and her cunt.

Simon knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled her down so her ass lined up with the edge of it, feeling weirdly relieved at the sight of the fucking floral pattern on the sheets. He kissed and nipped his way up the inside of her thighs, listened as her giggles morphed into breathy little sighs. He stopped short of putting his mouth on her, took a minute to look at her cunt, ran a finger along the edges of her, spreading wetness into the soft hair on her mound.
“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Now?”
He assumed she'd meant it as a question, the word'd come out of her with the same tone his name always did, and yet it went through him like an order, though one he actually wanted to bend to.

The second his lips wrapped around her clit Patty's legs came up around his neck, effectively holding him against her as he sucked her cunt, trying to gauge from her gasps and moans and how hard she pulled on his hair what really got her going. At some point he got his jeans open and his cock out, worked a hand around it and started jerking off as Patty hummed and writhed under his tongue. He eventually pushed it up her cunt and brought a thumb against her clit, and Patty screamed out and seized up, gripping his hair so hard he though her fingernails might break skin. He came with her, spilling over his hand and down on the rug, let his head rest against her thigh as she slowly came down from it.

“Simon?” her voice after she came was nearly enough to get him hard again, rough and blissed out and still so fucking soft.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. That was really very nice.”
He kissed her thigh to hide his smile, assumed it was answer enough when she started running her fingers through his hair. It was nice. Nice enough that he elected to stay right where he was, folded down by the foot of her bed.

“Hey Simon?” Patty asked after a while, just as he was starting to doze off on the floor, his head still nestled between her legs.
“Yeah?”
“What about you?”
Simon pulled himself up and flopped down next to her, open jeans, messed up boxers and all. “Dealt with it while I was eating you out. You have no idea how fucking hot you sound when you're getting off.”
“Oh.” Patty frowned but then leaned down to kiss him, and though she was a fucking good kisser it wasn't quite enough for him to forget about it.
“What're you frowning about?”

“I don't know,” Patty shrugged with another little frown, like she was working out a puzzle. He grabbed her hand and held it as she thought it through. He had nowhere to be after all, and he didn't like to upset her.
“Simon?”
“M-hm?”
“I think I wanted you to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“So I could see you come too.”
“Yeah?” He liked the idea, really, of her watching him spill over himself and onto her fucking carpeted floor, kneeling at her feet like a fucking dog.
“Yes. Like if it was for me.”
“It was for you.”
“It was?”
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, it really was.” He kissed her then to let her know how much he meant it, how badly he wanted her still, even though he'd only just come for her.

“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you wait for me next time?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I'll wait for you.”
“That's good.”
Fuck but he'd missed her. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hair, held her close as he found her comforter and pulled it over them. “Yeah. That's good.”

“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I talk to you about something?”
He'd never had a girlfriend before. He'd had regular hook ups and friends he occasionally fucked, plus a long list of one shots he'd not always known the names of, but nothing anyone would have called a relationship. He'd assumed he wouldn't want one anyway, would balk at being tied down and faithful but being with Patty turned out feeling nothing like that, and fucking her exclusively really wasn't a problem. Still, the question put him on edge. It sounded like the kind of thing his mom would ask him back before she gave up on him, when he'd still been a "confused young man with anger management issues". Worse, it sounded like the kind of shit Renae would pull with Allen, the kind of question that was going to ask him to share his feelings.

His third and last teenage shrink, the one he'd been sent to after burning down the school archives, thereby erasing every fucking student record in the building, his included, had told him he wasn't very forthcoming with his emotions, like that was the fucking breakthrough of the century. He'd been very forthcoming with how hot he though she was and how he felt about that, and through all the sessions he sabotaged by telling her about the things he wanted to do to her she'd never once told him to stop. She said she couldn't, and they shouldn't, and that it was unethical, but not that she didn't want him to fuck her and he was still pretty sure he could have, if he'd really wanted to. What he'd wanted was for her to give up on him, which she hadn't, though she'd hooked him up with some pretty sweet pills that he'd counted as a win, at least until the day his dad found out he was selling them out. She hadn't been wrong though. He wasn't very good at feeling things beyond anger and raw lust, or at least not in a way he could really articulate outside of music.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Patty asked, and it filled him with dread. She'd want to talk about love, possibly, or why he was the way he was, and he didn't want to look at any of it. He wouldn't look at his love for her because he hadn't told her yet and it terrified him, and he simply refused to analyse himself. He just was, and the world could get fucked. Not her though, he'd at least attempt to be forthcoming with her.
“Yeah?”
“Do you like having sex with me?”

They were hanging in his old basement room, recording some of her songs while Danny was chilling upstairs, ready to let them know when to bail, before shit started. It wasn't a perfect system but it worked, at least enough so she could sing for him and keep a trace of it. The girls would get a real deal eventually, get to use proper studio equipment and all, but this was just for them, the little collection of things she'd written him before and during jail and that he'd had ample time to write up music for. He needed her voice on tape for when she was not around and he'd yet to tire of working with her, even when they were each doing their own thing.

“Yeah,” he said, setting his headphones down. “Yeah, I fucking like it when we fuck. How come you're asking?” He'd thought it was obvious enough with how often they went at it and how easily she got him hard, but maybe he should have been more forthcoming.
“Well. You never really ask for it.”
“Huh.” He hadn't noticed, really, though since she'd told him about the waste of space who'd fucked her in high school and then pretended it'd never happened he'd made a point of showing her he wasn't in it just for her cunt. “Guess I don't.”
“Why not?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay.”

Simon went back to fiddling with the amp settings, feeling like he should probably say more, but somewhat at a loss for it.
“Hey Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you think about it?” Patty asked, and it didn't feel like a threat, or a fucking demand. She was curious and she wanted to know but she was also gonna let him sort through his shit and not push, and wasn't that a fucking breath of fresh air.
“Yeah. Yeah I'll think about it.”
“That's good,” she smiled. “Can you kiss me now?”
“Yeah. Fucking come here then.” She tasted like candy and coke and the distant after taste of his own fucking smokes and then she asked if he could get his fingers up her cunt and they lost track of things enough that Danny had to come down himself and find them mid-fuck on the console, which was well worth the look on his face.

“Hey Patty?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when you asked me why I always let you ask for it?”
“Uh-uh.”
“I've thought about it.” Simon gripped the steering wheel harder. It'd taken him the first fifteen minutes of the drive to even start that conversation and he already wanted to run. He couldn't, seeing as she had a gig in two hours and he was the one driving her there, which was why he'd thought this would be a good time to do this. No way for him to run or derail the whole thing into fucking. He didn't ask for it, didn't mean he didn't know how to get it.
“That's good,” Patty smiled at him across the seat.
“Yeah.”
He kept driving.

“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Yeah.” He slid his hand over to her and waited until she got the hint and grabbed it, found comfort in her fingers slotting through his. “Fuck. So. I think I like it when you tell me what to do.” It'd taken him a while to get to that conclusion, and a while more to stop being mad about it. His whole thing was doing whatever the fuck he wanted and not giving a shit, and yet every time she pushed his head down or told him to go harder or slower or do that again he felt his fucking dick twitch. Getting off on being ordered around was about as big a cosmic joke as he could think of, but he figured she wouldn't see it that way, and wouldn't use it against him if she did. Worse than his fucking submissive tendencies was the part he hadn't told her yet, where whenever she looked at him with her face flushed and her eyes blown out to black from coming on his cock and told him shit like “thanks”, and “that was good, Simon,” then his heart fucking twisted in his chest and let his anger rest, which was as close to fucking bliss as he'd ever come.

“Do you mean all the time?”
“No.” He really didn't, actually, he still spent most of his time doing his own thing and fucking around, popping pills and trying to rebuild his fucking band from its implosion. At least Donnie'd stuck with him, but they still needed a bass, and he wasn't fully sold on the guy they'd picked for guitar. He and Patty saw each other often, every other day at least, but he needed space to move and she had her own shit going on too, the band, and whatever cluster fuck her family cooked up on any given day trying to adapt to the sudden and newly found independence of their perfect fantasy children. “Just when we fuck.”
“Okay.” Patty nodded once, which was a thing she did when she tried to retain important information and Simon's heart melted a little.
“Yeah. Is...” he focussed harder on driving, tried not to overthink it. “Are you okay with that? Like. Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand like she somehow understood how hard it had been for him to ask, and the best answer he could come up with was “tits.”

They drove on for a while, discussing the set list for tonight's show and whether or not the girls should add a bass line to one of their songs before she came back to it.
“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want me to do it more? Tell you what to do?”
“Yeah. If you want.”
“I think I do,” she smiled when he glanced at her, a bright fucking thing that made him want to kiss her forehead. “It's nice, people don't usually care what I want.”
“Fuck them,” Simon was back to rage in a second, suddenly very comfortable with this whole thing, ready to take on the next cunt who even looked at her wrong. “Seriously, Patty, fuck all of them. Just tell me who to punch.”
“That's nice. But you're not a very good fighter, are you?”
“Fire beats muscle.” He'd been trying not to burn anything lately, wasn't looking to land his ass back in jail, but he'd risk it for her, and enjoy it too. When Patty laughed and leaned down to kiss his cheek, he fucking let her.
“You're sweet,” she said, and Simon drove on, smiling like a fucking moron.

“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there anything else you like?”
“Yeah.” He pushed a tape into the deck and cranked the volume up, let music do the talking for him, which wasn't as good as running away right now but came pretty fucking close. Patty didn't seem to mind. She drummed her fingers to the beat and sang along, and let him have his weak fucking escape.

“You know,” Patty said, kneeling between his legs, “I'm really glad you're my boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” Simon watched her run a finger along the hardened veins in his cock. He was sitting stock still and stark naked on the edge of his bed, in the first proper room he'd managed to get to himself in the six months since his release. He'd moved in the day before and now they were celebrating with the world's slowest fucking blowjob.
“Yeah. I don't think Sissy's boyfriend would stay still like that if she asked.”
“Fuck Brian Pats, he's got no idea what he's missing.” He would stay still however long she wanted, as long as she kept touching him he was fucking fine. Her finger was still sliding along his cock, now circling 'round his head, chipped nail polish flashing bright blue against his flushed skin.
“Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Talk to me while I suck on it.”
Patty didn't wait for him to reply, just bent down and angled his cock so she could lick up the underside of it, swipe her tongue around his head in the same pattern her finger had followed, and for a few seconds Simon forgot to obey. He let himself feel the hot drag of her tongue, the minute twitch of his dick in her hands.
“Talk,” Patty said again, then wrapped her lips around him and sucked, flattening her tongue to ease him in.

“Fuck.” Simon didn't have any other word to cover how good her mouth felt around him, the wet warmth of her and the occasional swipe of tongue, the choking little noises Patty made when she tried to go too far too fast, the absolute agony that was keeping still while she did all of it, took her time ruining him. “Fuck,” he said again, and then started talking, too caught up in doing as she wanted to really filter any of it. “You're so fucking good I dream of you even when you're here. Like. I'll be in your bed, spread out in my own fucking spend with your head against my chest, and still I fucking dream of you. Fuck.” She hummed around him as he spoke, sending weird little vibrations along his cock, pushing him too fast toward release when she'd not even undressed yet. “Patty. Fuck.” Simon fisted the sheets on either side of him, plain white ones he'd stolen from his own mother and intended to ruin thoroughly in the months to come. He wanted Patty to move in with him but hadn't asked yet, was more than halfway terrified she'd say yes. He wasn't sure she'd be able to stand him full time, no one ever had before, but if she did maybe they could mix sheets. He'd miss the florals, he thought, or at least the sight of her on them.
“Simon?” Patty asked in a raw whisper, her hand leaving his hip to come wrap around his cock, spit dribbling down her chin. He wanted to kiss her.
“Yeah?”

“You can't come yet,” her breath felt cold against his dick, but he didn't think it explained the shiver. “Not before I tell you to.”
“Fuck,” Simon bit out. “That.”
“Is that too much ordering?” Patty pulled back a little to catch his eyes, frowning lightly with worry, though she was still jerking him off, her hand gliding slowly up and down his length.
“No.” He'd meant 'that' as in 'that's what fucking did it for him', but he'd maybe expand on it later. “No,” he told her, “that's exactly the right amount of ordering. Fuck.”
“Good,” Patty smiled then bent her head back down. “Keep talking, okay?”
“Okay. Fuck.” Her mouth was back on him and now she was opening her jeans, pushing them down to reveal a fucking pineapple pattern of all things, a pair he recognised for having stolen it for her. “When I was in jail and I couldn't see you, couldn't even hear your voice except on the fucking phone, I tried to draw them. Your fucking polaroids. I can't draw for shit Pats,” Simon went on as he watched her hand slide down under the elastic band, just like it had on the dozens of pictures she'd taken for him. “They were so fucking bad, and I still jerked off to them, that's how gone on that shit I was. So yeah. Also. Fuck.”
Patty had started touching herself, and immediately lost track of what she was doing to him. As things were going now she was mostly panting around his strained cock, occasionally licking it or suckling down, all trace of technique gone from it. It was probably gonna end him.

“Fuck me,” Simon grunted, “look at you. You're so fucking good. Why the fuck do you want me Pats? I'm. Fuck. I'm just a pyro piece of shit, I don't understand.”
She bit him. Not hard, and not his dick, but still she bit down on the inside of his thigh and took her hand away from her cunt, frowning up at him and looking thoroughly hot.
“What?” It was hard focusing by now, he'd been so close to coming, only holding off because she'd told him to, and because he wanted to see her come too, watch her eyes screw shut and widen out as her body twitched.
“No,” Patty told him, and fuck him but she looked upset now, and he wasn't sure what he'd done. “You can't say that kind of things, it's mean, and it's not true, and I don't like it. I like it when you're nice to me, and when you fuck with me, but not that. I like when you're mad at people for being mean too, and when you sing. I really like when you sing.”
“Alright.” He hadn't meant to tell her any of that self deprecating bullshit, but she'd asked him to talk so he'd talked, and it had all just slipped out. He meant it too, which was fucking pathetic, which he probably shouldn't tell her either. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“It's okay,” Patty rose to come sit next to him. Her chin was still wet with spit and what he assumed was a decent amount of precum, but she didn't seem to care. “You're not bad Simon,” she told him as she took his hand, “and I'm not a retard. People just suck.”
“Yeah. Yeah you can fucking say that again. Sorry for killing the mood.”
“I don't know,” Patty said, sliding her free hand down his stomach and back around his dick, "I think we can work it out.”
“Fuck,” he was still hard, and nothing much mattered now beyond the twisting of her palm against him, “yeah, alright.”
“I'm going to kiss you now, okay?”
“Yeah. Fuck.” He leaned to the side so she could make good on it, lick up into his mouth and share the taste of him. Patty whined and pushed him down, plastered herself to him before letting go of his dick to pull her jeans away. He pulled her shirt up the second she settled down next to him, reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra as she hooked a leg over his hip and started rutting against his cock through the wet cotton of her underwear.

“Simon?”
“Yeah?” He was mouthing at her neck, nipping the skin behind her ear as she rubbed against him, his hand groping her ass to help her along.
“If I asked you to come in me now would you do it?” Patty stopped moving to look him in the eye, her hair a glorious fucking mess, strands falling over her face and plastered to her temples, and it was very fucking tempting to say yes.
“You're not on the pill Pats.”
“I know,” she shrugged, and he could feel it in his cock. “I think I want to be. I want to know how you feel afterwards. Leaking down.”
“Fuck. Yeah. Okay. No. Shit. I don't know. I'm the one's supposed to be a bad influence.”
“You're not bad Simon. You're very good, actually.” Patty smiled and then kissed his cheek like her hand wasn't on his ass. “Now go find a condom and fuck me, please.”
Simon did exactly that.

“That,” Patty said, her hand coming up to pet his hair after he'd collapsed on top of her, “was amazing. Thanks, Simon.”
Simon smiled into her neck, where she couldn't see him blush but would probably feel it. “You're so fucking welcome.” He rolled off her and dealt with the condom, by which he meant he tied it off and threw it down somewhere on the floor, then settled against her, his head resting on her shoulder, their hands clasped together between them. “That's the thing by the way.”
“Uh?”
“Remember when you asked what else I liked?”
“Uh-uh. You didn't want to say.”
“I'm fucking trying to.” He didn't mean to be biting, not with her, but he was still an asshole at heart and he didn't know how else to be.
“Okay.” She sounded confused now, like maybe it was her fault he couldn't fucking form coherent sentences.
“Sorry.” Simon bent a little to lick her still-hard tit, watched her body shiver from it.
“That's nice,” she said, and his heart seized again.
“That.”
“Uh?”
“Fuck, Pats. I like it when you fucking tell me I'm good okay?” Simon rolled on his back but still kept hold of her hand.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he couldn't look at her, for some fucking reason or other.

“Simon?”
“Mh?”
“Why are you mad about it?”
“Not mad.”
“You seem mad.” She sounded sad about it, and he still couldn't turn around.
“Yeah.”
“Are you mad at me?”
That finally pushed him to move, to roll back on his side and face her. “No. No, I'm not mad at you.”
“That's good,” Patty smiled.
“Yeah. Do you mind if I don't explain it?”
“Ever?”
“No. Not ever, just not now.”
“Okay.”
“Tits.” Simon brought his free hand to cup her head, pulled her into a slow kiss that he hoped covered all the shit he could not say.

“Pats?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when you said you were glad I was your boyfriend?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Yeah. I'm glad I'm your boyfriend too.”

“Can we go home now Simon?” Patty called from somewhere inside the house. They were chilling on Cal's mom's porch, since she'd fucked off somewhere on holidays for a month. It gave the band a place to meet up and rock out, and it'd been part of why Cal even made it in in the first place. He could really fucking play too, and he'd never ratted anyone out, so that was tits. Simon drained his beer and got up.
“Duty calls assholes, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't you fucking be late again Donnie, Adyan still needs to work through all the old ones, we've got to be ready for Friday.”
“Yeah, yeah. I'll be there, dude. Chill.”
“You better be.” Friday was their first show since Morgan'd fucking sold him up. They planned on doing a lot of new shit he'd come up with in the slammer and they needed everything to go fucking tits.
“Yeah,” Donnie agreed with a shrug, which seeing he was high off his head was as good as it was gonna get. “Hey Simon?”
“What?”
“How come after all the years you spent dipping your dick around this one's got you so fucking whipped?”
The rest of the band chuckled at him, somewhat immune by now to the threat of his grandstanding anger, but Simon didn't give a shit.
“Ask my dick if I care,” he told them, turning around to go find Patty. Ask his heart too, but they probably wouldn't.

“Hey Simon?” Patty asked over her morning coffee. She'd moved in eventually, once he'd gotten his shit together enough to ask.
“Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I love you?”
Simon froze midway through grabbing milk from the fridge, overwhelmed by the intense desire to run, or scream, or laugh. In the end his fucking brain seemed to settle on crying, slow burning tears that rolled down his cheeks without any prompt on his part.
“Yeah,” he managed to get out eventually, still standing in the mild chill of the open fridge door. “Yeah it's fucking okay if you love me. Fuck.” Simon pushed the door shut and went to her, sat down on the beat up couch they'd dragged out of a dumpster and covered in cleanish quilts. “Come here.” He kissed her so she wouldn't see him cry. He'd have kissed her anyway, of course, but he needed to do something that was not fleeing with the tight burning feeling in his chest. It was a choice between shooting up and getting lost into her, and this felt miles fucking better than any dope he'd ever tried.

“Are you sad?”
“No. I'm not fucking sad.”
“You're crying.”
“Yeah. Fucking ignore it, alright?” He rubbed away the tears on his face with the back of his hand and went back to kissing her. Nothing else fucking mattered anyway.

“Why wouldn't it be okay?” he asked, later, once they'd both put clothes back on.
“You don't always like feeling nice. Not in your head anyway.”
“Fuck me. You're really something else, Pats. Listen though. It's okay. It's very fucking okay even, feel free to tell me anytime.”
“Even in front of the boys?”
“Fuck the boys, Pats. Anytime.”
“Okay.”

“Hey Pats?”
“Yeah?”
“Ask me if I love you too.” It was the only way he could ever work up to it, probably. She'd ask, and he'd feel compelled to answer, and that way he wouldn't be the asshole that left his girl hanging, waiting to hear her feelings reciprocated when he'd been gone on her nearly from day one.
“Okay. Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“You love me too, right?” Patty asked with a little tilt of her head.
“Yeah.” It went without saying, but the smile on her face was worth everything, even the dread he had to fight through to push the words out. “Yeah I fucking love you too.”