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Really, it was a surprise it took them this long to get one of these, but as Grif sat on the bed, and stared in a way that would be impolite in any other circumstance, he couldn’t really believe it had finally happened.
He tore his eyes away, swallowing, and looked up. Simmons, in turn, looked as smug as anything at Grif’s speechlessness, grinning toothily as he stood with his hands on his hips.
“Like what you see?” There was a little tremor of excitement and unbridled glee in Simmons’ voice as he shifted his weight, and Grif’s eyes shot back downward at the silicone dick strapped to Simmons swayed with the motion. It only makes sense that, given the ability to choose his own weapon, as it were, Simmons would lean a little bigger. Not that Grif had any complaints, at all, whatsoever.
It’d been... a really long time, a really long time since he came face to face with a dick, and Grif was practically salivating.
“Yeah,” he replied, swallowing again before sliding forward off the bed and shuffling the small distance between them on his knees. “Fuck yeah. You sure can, uh, pick ‘em.”
He got a soft sort of squawking sound in reply as he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to the slope of Simmons’ hipbone, cheek pressing to the edge of the harness, and slid his hands up to grip the back of Simmons’s thighs.
As he nuzzled closer against Simmons’ skin, he felt fingertips slide along his scalp, gently settling in his hair, and he pulled back enough to look up. Simmons’s face had changed, a little buzzing kind of something behind his eyes as he bit his lip.
“Is this - this is okay?” Grif murmured, already a little raspy, and gave Simmons’s thigh a squeeze. “You good?”
“Y-yeah.” Simmons’s voice was low as he stared downwards, and Grif felt himself flush under that gaze. “Yeah, I’m good. Just, um. Keep going.”
Grif grinned, moving one hand to grip Simmons’s dick. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Simmons let out a soft laugh as Grif lowered his head again, then went quiet as Grif hovered for a moment, licked his lips, then leaned forward and took the head into his mouth.
“Oh,” said Simmons. Grif hummed low and long in response, squeezing his thigh again. Simmons’s fingers tightened as Grif moved lower, taking as much in as he could, covering what he couldn’t with his hand. Big was the operative word with this one, real big, dizzyingly big, maybe, but nothing Grif couldn’t handle. He pulled back, slow, until he came off with a pop, not bothering to avoid the trail of saliva between his mouth and Simmons’ dick as he looked up at Simmons through his lashes. Of course, this was Simmons’s first time getting this particular sort of head. Grif wasn’t about to not make a show of it.
“You look really good,” Simmons mumbled as Grif tongued over the head, kissing it lazily before sinking back down, holding the member steady with one hand as he slid the other up to grip Simmons’ hip. His jaw would be achy after this, he could tell, but as he pressed farther, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Sucking dick was, in some ways, like riding a bike. For as long as it had been since he’d done it, Grif found himself quickly falling into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the feel of Simmons in his mouth and Simmons’s fingers in his hair as he listened to Simmons’s little curses and soft breaths. He was… uncharacteristically quiet, although that might have been the newness of the situation.
“Still good?” Grif asked, slightly out of breath as he leaned back to get a good, full look at Simmons. He blinked owlishly down at Grif, open-mouthed and pink cheeked, and took a moment to answer.
“Yes! Yeah, really good. I… you look so good,” he repeated, almost bashful. Grif smiled, kissing the top of his thigh, sliding a hand up the inside and brushing the blade of his finger over the slick heat between Simmons’ legs. Simmons gasped, knees buckling, and planted a hand on Grif’s shoulder for support in such a way that shoved his dick directly past Grif’s cheek.
Grif wrapped his free arm around Simmons’ thigh to hold him up, pressing another kiss to his hip.
“C’mon. C’mon, sit down,” Grif nudged Simmons back towards the bed. He went willingly, sitting heavily and leaned back on one arm.
Grif settled between his spread knees for a moment, kissing his thigh and nuzzling into the soft, sensitive skin there before pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. Legs were cramping a little. Totally worth it.
He sat hard next to Simmons on the bed, heart jumping a little at the flush on Simmons’s face.
“So,” Grif said.
“So,” Simmons replied, hands wrapped loosely around the edge of the mattress.
“What’s next, boss?”
The corners of Simmons’s mouth curled up at the familiar title, and he leaned over to kiss Grif, chastely for now, catching Grif’s cheek in his hand.
“Well, I. Hmmn.” He didn't pull back as Grif reciprocated his kiss, pressing more to his mouth and shifting to accommodate this new arrangement.
Grif gave an amused hum, winding his thick fingers loosely into Simmons’s hair.
“I wanna fuck you,” Simmons said against his mouth, and it was just breathless enough, just low enough to knock the wind out of Grif.
“Yeah?” He mumbled in reply, scooting backwards on the bed as Simmons followed, keeping his face close as he flopped back and Simmons straddled his thigh, hands now planted next to Grif's head.
Simmons nodded, humming an mmhm , and Grif could feel the heat radiating off of Simmons’s definitely very red face.
“Well, sounds fine to me,” Grif didn’t bother to keep the eagerness from his voice and he felt Simmons smile against his cheek.
“You sure?”
“Simmons, I’m pretty sure nothing has sounded better in my whole life.”
That got a laugh, and as Simmons sat up on his knees to stretch for the end table Grif propped himself up on his elbows. It wasn't hyperbole, what he'd just said. He loved fucking Simmons, loved the dynamic they'd built up, loved the -
Simmons sat back up, lube in hand, and Grif swallowed hard.
He really, really wanted this.
“Grif, um. I feel like. I know it's been a long time for you, and maybe I got ahead of myself picking this one out, and if you don't think you can, um. Take it, that’s -”
Grif gave Simmons a look, reaching up to snatch the lube from his hands.
“Can't take it,” he grumbled under his breath, popping the cap. “Simmons, I think you'll find that I’m very good at taking it. It’s probably one of my better qualities.”
He glanced up as Simmons leaned in to kiss him, simultaneously taking the lube from his hands.
“You have lots of good qualities, asshole,” Simmons reminded him as he sat back up, shuffling to position himself between Grif’s thighs. Grif opened them a little wider to accommodate and just… took a moment to appreciate the view, the flush all over his - well, boyfriend didn't seem right. Partner wasn't his thing. Not his husband (yet). Boyfriendsband? Whatever.
His Simmons was flushed all over, pink under his freckles, a gleam in his eye.
“Mind if I...?” He asked, gesturing with the lube, and Grif nodded.
“Yeah, knock yourself out.” Grif smiled, and Simmons smiled back, mirroring the warmth in Grif’s expression. They’d done this part before. Fingers weren't really new, and Simmons was… really good, with his fingers. Grif settled back, comfortably, letting out a soft affirming groan as he felt the first of Simmons’ fingers slip in.
“S’good,” He mumbled as Simmons set his free hand on Grif’s thigh. “S’ real good, Sims.”
The second finger came easy with Simmons’s careful pace, then the third as easily as the others. It was leisurely, definitely, but comfortably so. Simmons went easy on his prostate this time, although there were still little jolts now and again that made Grif buck and moan and Simmons chuckle breathlessly, apologizing as Grif cursed at him. Knowing what was to come made it easier to wait, in a way, knowing this would help.
Simmons withdrew his fingers, eventually, and Grif propped himself back up with a sated smile.
“Need more, do you think?” Simmons asked, watching Grif carefully, almost nervously, resting his wrist against Grif’s thigh to keep his slick hand from both the sheets and Grif’s skin.
Grif eyed Simmons’ dick, considering, and shook his head.
“I… kinda want all that, right now.” Grif said, and Simmons reached for a tissue, not breaking eye contact as Grif continued. “You look, so fucking good - I’m - here, hang on. Stand up.”
Simmons gave him a curious look but did as he was told, standing at the edge of the bed and tossing the tissue in the direction of their wastebasket. Neither one of them checked to see if it made it. Grif wriggled across the mattress, positioning himself to sit facing Simmons.
“It'll probably be, uh. Easier like this. To start out with.” Grif grabbed the lube and finally - finally, fucking finally started slicking up Simmons’ cock. “Leverage and whatever.”
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Simmons’ stomach before leaning back to look at him.
“You good?”
Simmons nodded, leaning down to kiss Grif and… lay him back against the mattress. Wow. That was… different. Not that it hadn't happened before - this just felt different. The dynamic had shifted and it hung between them in a moment of breathless silence.
“You ready?” He said, quietly, hovering over Grif, bright green eyes fixed on him.
“So fucking ready.” Grif closed his eyes at the distant but familiar pressure against him, exhaling and doing his best to relax. Simmons moved slow, real slow, and Grif heard the mattress creak as Simmons pushed off it and stood straight, bracing his hands on the creases of Grif’s soft hips and his thighs.
And then, just like that, Simmons was in, and some kind of a switch flipped in Grif’s mind.
“Are y-” Simmons began, but fell silent as Grif cut him off.
“Please,” he managed, hands shaking against the mattress. “Please, keep going, Sims, fuck -”
He let his head flop against the mattress again and it was torturous, almost, as Simmons took his time pushing all the way in. Grif clenched and unclenched his hands, breaths growing more and more ragged with every moment until he felt Simmons’s hips flush against his ass and sighed with relief? Anticipation? Hard to tell when, after fuck knows how long, he was full of dick and there was no room for any other coherent feeling.
“Good?” Simmons said, breathlessly, gripping Grif's hips a little harder, and there was an edge to his voice, his breathing that made Grif need to see him. He opened his eyes and saw Simmons was locked the fuck onto his face, eyes hooded, chest rising and falling, and it was too much.
Grif nodded, reaching down to grip one of Simmons’ wrists. “Please,” he said again, and Simmons obliged with an experimental thrust, back and forward, simple stuff, slow and even.
If he wasn't so far gone already, Grif might have been surprised at the noise he made. Might. As it was, Grif wasn't really thinking about anything except this, here, right the fuck now.
“Holy shit,” said Simmons, in something that sounded like awe, but he didn't stop.
Grif moaned again as Simmons picked up the pace, clutching Simmons’s wrist, the sheets, breath coming in little punched-out bursts in time with Simmons’ hips smacking against him. He was lost in it in no time, and by the sound of it, so was Simmons as he cursed, gripped Grif’s hips harder, and pressed deep.
“You like that?” He asked, breath catching at Grif’s squirming, broken moan. “You like muh-me fucking you, Grif?”
“ Please,” Grif whined, opening his eyes to meet Simmons's, “So good, son of a bitch !! Fuck!”
Simmons exhaled shakily with a sound from somewhere deep in his chest, planting a hand on the mattress next to Grif’s hip, slowing his thrusts but going harder. He was a natural, some part of Grif realized with a sense of pride, as Simmons took the first slipping out in stride with a breathless curse but no real lull as he pressed back into Grif.
Grif couldn’t help himself but babble, more incoherent than coherent as Simmons went to town, slamming into him sometimes, slowing to the point that Grif shook and cursed until Simmons rolled into him again, fast and hard. Simmons gasped praise when he could, voice breathless but controlled in a way that drove Grif wild as he groaned and grabbed at whatever bits of Simmons he could reach.
Simmons, sweaty and panting, flopped forward, one elbow next to Grif’s head and one knee planted on the bed with Grif’s thigh tight around his hip like it was made to fit just there. Grif bucked his hips up into the sudden pressure on his dick as Simmons pressed them flush, burying his face in Grif’s neck, hooking his forearms under Grif’s shoulders (as Grif had done to him so many times before) and just grinding there. Grif wrapped his arms up and around, winding one into Simmons’ hair, tugging to keep him close, to hear Simmons’ breath catch.
The heat of Simmons’s breath on his neck, his low, encouraging noises and the sensation of Simmons’s abdomen on his dick and the new angle was too much and Grif came hard, vision whiting out before he could even gasp out that he was close, groaning loud and long as Simmons gave him a yeah, fuck yeah, slowing his thrusts but not stopping until Grif’s hips stopped relaxed completely, flopping against the mattress.
It took a few moments to find words, but when he did, they came heavy and low.
“Holy fuck,” Grif said, lifting his hands to run them down over his face as Simmons shimmied back up, still inside, and stood with his hands on Grif’s knees, looking flushed and a little shaky in the thighs and very, very pleased with himself.
“I had no idea.” Simmons said after a moment, with a grin, and Grif shrugged. If he wasn’t blushing already (unlikely) he definitely was now. “You, uh. I.”
Grif propped himself up on his elbows, one at a time, then reached up and gestured for Simmons to come back down. He did planting his hands at Grif’s sides and pressing a kiss to Grif’s mouth, then another, breathing still just a bit hard.
“It’s harder than it looks.” Simmons said, still smiling.
“You did great.” Grif exhaled, satisfied and not bothering to lean back, and pressed his thighs to Simmons’s hips.
“Just great?” Simmons said, softly, and the pride and mirth in his voice made Grif smile.
“Amazing. Stupendous.” Grif grinned as he felt Simmons grin, too. “Really fucking great. You’re a natural.”
Simmons kissed him again, shifting forward, and Grif jumped as he was reminded all too suddenly of the post-fuck sensitivity that had thus far not reared its ugly head.
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, you can go ahead and puh-ull out -” Grif stuttered with a soft gasp as Simmons did just that, carefully and slowly, stepping back from the bed.
“You good?”
“Yeah, m’fine. Just sensitive.”
Satisfied with the answer, Simmons turned and Grif watched sleepily as Simmons worked the buckles of the harness to shimmy it off over his hips.
“Looks real good on you,” Grif murmured, and Simmons grinned at him over his shoulder, bending slightly to step out of the pleather straps.
As he walked off to the bathroom, Grif slid further up the bed with a soft sigh, situating himself so that his head was on a pillow and the rest of his body was comfortable, specifics be damned.
He opened his eyes as Simmons returned, startled he’d dozed off so quickly, but Simmons didn’t seem to mind so much as he leaned over to kiss Grif.
“Need any help?” Grif mumbled, but Simmons shook his head.
“I got it. You go.”
Grif nodded sluggishly, practically rolling off the bed and into the bathroom, and as he shut the door he heard the throaty grunt indicating that Simmons had indeed gotten it.
When he returned, Simmons was under the covers and held them open as Grif climbed back in, immediately burrowing down as much as possible. Simmons rolled over to face him, settling down and wrapping one arm around to pull the tie from Grif’s hair, immediately sinking his fingertips into it and rubbing slow, even circles on Grif’s scalp.
“S’gonna tangle,” Grif slurred, already half asleep.
“It’ll do that anyway,” replied Simmons, his voice low and a little raspy and warm.
Grif conceded, and didn’t have time to formulate a reply as he dropped off to sleep.