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As a self-proclaimed extremely unlucky person, Simon counted himself somewhat lucky when he accidentally stumbled upon a room further into the closet of his shared bedroom with none other than Ryland Grace.
Okay, well, it wasn't a room exactly. it was a door that opened up into another room. A room that Grace apparently didn't know of. Probably something the Eridians ended up abandoning. Or maybe they were expecting him to use it and he just never did. Or an abandoned project of sorts.
Either way, Simon wasn't complaining.
Now that he was in a safe place away from Eden or the Consolidation, he didn't have to worry about getting caught. The guilt of being given the title Butcher was bleeding onto him the more and more he thought about his life before being put in that submarine. Before he was thrown into prison for something he was trying to stop.
So this room behind the mirror really helps his brain from melting out of his ears.
It's an empty room with no lights but there's a mirror Simon can see through. He had never seen such a thing before, but upon further investigation, the mirror the Eridians added to the wall in the bedroom had this effect where the person on the other side could see into the room and the other person on the mirror side would be none the wiser.
So light filters into this room through the bedroom and it gives Simon the momentary peace he's yearned for his entire life. He appreciates Grace, Rocky, and Adrian, but sometimes he needs time to himself. There aren't many places on Erid that are readily accessible for Simon to start hyperventilating without worrying anyone, so this little room works perfectly.
At first, it started off a little cubby to hide away from the outside world. Just stash away a few fantasy novels he's been meaning to read in a pile against the opposite side of the wall. So that maybe if Grace were to find this place, he wouldn't notice Simon's reading habit.
But then he started bringing a pillow. A blanket. Maybe even a few snacks and a lamp from the closet. It's not anything he's ever been allowed to have, and when he did have these things that were considered a luxury, he'd give them to his brothers. The younger ones so they were comfortable. They deserved it far more than Simon ever did and ever will.
Once he sees Grace off to work, he traverses through the house, to the bedroom, and into the closet, where the door is hidden. The Eridian engineers have such a focus to detail that even the outline of the door is barely noticeable to the naked eye. Grace would never find something like this.
Simon finds the small room exactly how he left it. His books on one side, a blanket and a pillow on the other. He sits down on the pillow, pulls the blanket over his legs, and reaches for the one book with a folded piece of paper jammed in between pages. This one is a fantasy novel with hints of romance. Simon only ever recalls hearing about books that weren't full of history through stories passed down by his brothers. He hated reading those stupid manuals, so this was a nice change.
He doesn't realize it, but as time goes on, his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. His grip on the book slacks, falling onto his broad chest. Soon, he forgets what he was doing, but he knows he's in a safe place that will allow him to rest. It still feels like a dream sometimes. That he's going to wake up from this lovely biodome and he's going to be back behind bars or possibly in that damn ship again.
He wakes up to the sound of something thick falling and then rapid footsteps pattering against wooden floorboards.
Simon is coherent quickly, a habit built into him since he was a child. He blinks rapidly, allowing his eyes to get used to the artificial sunlight that comes in through the blinds. His heart stops in his chest when the door slams open and in comes Grace wearing that cardigan with the fox design on the side.
He has to remind himself that Grace can't see him from beyond the mirror. If the older man tried, he would only see his own reflection.
Simon watches in silence as Grace plops onto the bed and puts his hands over his face. He must've dropped his bag in the living room. That must have been the loud noise to wake Simon from his impromptu nap.
"Cut it out!" Grace says to himself, kicking his feet like he's trying to wring all that energy out of himself.
Simon's immediate instinct is to check up on Grace, see if he's doing okay, but then he realizes that he'd tell on himself by revealing the room inside the closet. Instead, he holds his breath and hopes Grace will leave soon so he can sneak out.
Also, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about Grace's current disaster. The man tends to freak out about some of the silliest things, but usually he'd distract himself with work or bug Simon about it (not like Simon minds). Right now he isn't. Which only piques Simon's interest more.
So he stays quiet and watches as Grace pushes himself to sit up. He tangles his fingers in his hair, tugs, and pauses. Then he falls back onto the bed.
Jeez, so a lot of nervous energy, huh?
"Stop it. You're acting insane. Stop it, stop it, stop it," Grace says to himself. "You just need to get your head out of the gutter! Stop it!"
Confused, Simon tilts his head to the side. He wants to get up, ask what the hell Grace is going on about, before he pauses.
The bed creaks loudly as Grace pushes himself up onto the bed and reaches down to unzip his jeans. Is he changing? It makes sense, Simon presumes. Grace just got back from work, and they've changed their clothes around each other countless times. Still, Simon gets the idea that he should probably look away and give Grace the privacy.
Easy enough. Simon thinks he's right. Grace kicks off his jeans to the side. Simon makes a mental note to put them in the laundry hamper later.
He moves to look away, but Grace doesn't get up from the bed. No, instead he pushes his right hand into his boxers. A shaky breath leaves his mouth and Simon freezes.
"You're being crazy," Grace says to himself. He reaches up to pull his glasses off with his free hand, and shoves them haphazardly onto the bedside table (nearly missing and dropping them on the carpet).
His hand below the fabric begins to move, and Simon thinks he's going to lose his mind. He must have lost it already, because this not only feels invasive, but also so wrong.
But he just can't tear his gaze away from the sight in front of him. Grace doesn't know Simon is watching him just a few feet away from the bed.
There are a handful of questions roaming around in Simon's head. But the main question is why was Grace freaking out about this?
Simon's life taught him a handful of things. One, that sex wasn't for the pleasure it could bring. It was solely to reproduce. Only way to keep the human race alive, after all.
Humans, however, are also unpredictable. Behaviours like this were considered wildly inappropriate whether you did them privately or not. Sex isn't for pleasure. Not if you were part of Eden, and not if you were part of the Consolidation.
So seeing Grace squirm and moan causes something to bubble in Simon's stomach. He knows the culture where Grace came from didn't frown upon self-pleasure as much as Eden or the Consolidation did, so this is probably normal for him. Doesn't mean it's normal for Simon, but he just needs to look away and mind his business—
"Simon," Grace moans and Simon almost slams his hand against the wooden floorboards.
What? what, what, what?
Blood loudly rushes into his ears as he watches Grace slightly arch his back off the mattress. He grunts in what Simon can only assume is frustration. He then lifts his head up off the pillow, looks down at his hand in his underwear, and uses his other hand to pull the fabric down his thighs. He shuffles until it’s finally off and lets it sit near his ankles.
Simon knew Grace wasn't born a biological male- they talked about it in length the first time Simon saw Grace shirtless and couldn't stop staring at his scarring.
("You know you can ask, right?"
"...We were taught not to ask about scars where I'm from."
"Yeah? Us too, but I know these ones don't look normal. So you can ask. You're just curious."
"...Are they supposed to be so symmetrical and, like. clean? I've never seen anything like it.")
But for some reason, Simon still expected to see male parts. He doesn't for obvious reasons. He never saw Grace as anything other than a man! He feels a little silly the longer he ponders.
Stop thinking about that! Back to the main topic at hand!
Grace's hand trails down from the top of his genitals down to the entrance, where he pushes a finger in. He gently gasps at the intrusion, hips trembling, and he gently pushes further in
Simon doesn't have a clue as to what the hell Grace is doing, but it must be giving him some type of pleasure, right? He wonders what he would have to do to press all of Grace's buttons. Where would it feel the best for Simon to touch? How would his fingers feel inside of Grace instead? It looks wet and it sounds sloppy. Interesting.
Another loud gasp and Simon's head snaps back towards Grace. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Grace get up and on his knees. He probes his fingers deeper and judging by the way his wrist moves, he seems like he curls his fingers further into himself.
"Oh my—!" he yells, doubling over. He catches himself with his hand and the sound to come out of him is nothing he's ever heard come out of someone's mouth before.
Holy shit.
Now is an amazing time for Simon to realize that his own cock is straining hard against his own sweatpants. He looks down and his brows furrow in half parts confusion and annoyance.
"Fuck," Simon whispers.
Sure, this happened a handful of times, but he'd just ignore it until it went away. Pretty easy, considering there was really nothing he could've done about it. There just weren't many things that could turn a guy on when his entire life was dedicated to trees (and that is a gross oversimplification).
But now? Shit, he thinks he's going to explode. He's so hard he's going to explode and his face is reddening by the second with embarrassment and the need for any type of relief.
He ignores his erection to watch the show in front of him instead. Grace is leaned forward, head smushed into the mattress with his fingers buried inside of him. His thighs are trembling and his legs are spread so far apart that he looks like he's going to fall over. But he doesn't look like he can really help himself.
Simon could probably reach deeper. Scratch that itch inside of Grace. Make him feel so good with just his hand.
Simon's heart plummets straight into his stomach until he realizes that Grace is staring at his own reflection in the mirror and not at Simon. He inhales to sigh a breath of relief, but his mind switches focus when he takes in the debauched expression on Grace's gorgeous face.
Oh, he looks so ruined. Simon wants to know exactly what Grace is thinking when he moves his fingers like that. Wants to know what to do to get Grace to sing like that.
Fuck, what is wrong with me?
It feels wrong to be watching but he can't look away. Grace has drool running down his chin, legs literally trembling like he's a caged animal, and he's whining every time he plunges his fingers deeper into himself.
"Pl—uhh," Grace barely warbles before his voice disappears into the sheets, "wh-what would he think?"
Then Grace rolls his hips into his fingers, seemingly gaining new friction, and he moans again. He's so loud. Even louder than before. Simon didn't know that was possible.
"Simon, please." Grace's eyes are shut and he gives another roll of his hips. He digs his feet into the mattress as if he physically can't stand the supposed pleasure that must make him feel amazing. And he's thinking of Simon while he does it.
Simon can't look away.
"God, please touch me," Grace says one last time before he pulls his fingers out and starts rubbing three of them over what Simon could only assume is another point of pleasure further up his cunt.
He buries his face into the mattress as he gasps and moans. He must be reaching the end of his line by the way his entire body jolts and trembles uncontrollably. The only words comprehensible from that mess of garbled noises was Simon's name.
He was thinking of Simon.
Fuck.
His fingers are frantically rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, legs trembling, body barely able to keep itself upright. After what feels like an eternity, Grace finally pulls his fingers out and ragdolls onto the bed with his hand covered in his fluid shuffled under him. He's panting for air, whining a little under his breath like he wants more. Wasn't that enough?
Simon holds back the urge to burst out of the closet and help Grace onto his feet. Get him in the shower, get him a pair of new clothes. He deserves to be comfortable and happy.
Okay. What to do…
Well, the tent in Simon's pants isn't really helping all that much. He grunts and decides that it wouldn't hurt if he just—
He bites down on his lip as soon as he pushes his hand into his pants and wraps fingers around his cock. Oh, it feels so good. So good, how has he never done this before?
Thinking back to what Grace was doing, Simon decides to copy it. His rough palm runs over the skin of his cock and he bites down harder on his lip. He tastes something metallic and then a spring of pain, but he just runs his tongue over the new wound and continues to stroke himself to completion.
As he does so, he thinks about Grace in that position. What would it look like if his ass was facing the mirror instead? Simon could get a full shot of what was going on, what Grace was doing. So that Simon could filter it back into his mind, think about it later, be able to perfect it when the time was right. When he could make all of Grace's fantasies come true. Get his grubby hand on him instead.
Was Grace imagining Simon touching him like that? Would it feel good if he put his cock inside of him instead? Simon remembers hearing stories about that on Eden.
He wants to make Grace feel good. He wants to return the favour.
It's not long before Simon is finishing fast and hard over his fist. He bites down into his lip again, drawing more blood, popping the wound open more, and the pain serves as a good distraction to stop himself from moaning out loud. His stomach clenches and tightens and as much as he just wants to let go, he can't. Grace is on the other side of the wall. If he had his other hand, he'd have his palm over his mouth. Like he used to do to muffle his crying when he was a child.
His cock begins to sting after the hot white pleasure and he notices it go flaccid in his grip. So he releases and winces softly at the texture of his semen. Sticky. It kind of reminds him of blood.
Simon cranes his neck up to see Grace sitting up, pulling his boxers off with this dejected look on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are shiny, like he's about to start crying.
"Be normal," Grace says to himself in the mirror. His voice is hoarse and he doesn't know he's staring directly at Simon. Simon doesn't think he ever wants Grace to know about this little secret behind the mirror. "Just be normal! You're good at that. Pretending. You've been doing it for years! What's another thirty more?"
Grace smiles to himself in the mirror but it looks wrong, like his lips aren't supposed to move that way. They barely reach his eyes.
Be normal. Simon should take that advice.