A/N: Fic based on when Simon's heart starts beating again. Imagined world in which everything is cute and happy and they can live happily ever after tbh. Some sadness, some fanciful metaphors, some fluff, some smut, and some humour.
Word Count: 1812
Disclaimer: All rights to the owners of In The Flesh. No money is being made from this piece of writing.
A car roars down the road outside the bungalow and Simon shuffles around in bed. It still feels weird being in this house without Amy. Reminders of her are everywhere; in the way the pink curtains flutter in the wind and the flowers littered like trinkets around the rooms and the fairground ticket for bumper cars stuck with magnets on the ancient fridge that has never been used for anything except neurotriptyline since he's lived here. Well, until recently that is. Simon sighs as his mind is flooded with these thoughts before he's even properly awake. He stretches one leg gingerly, wincing as pins and needles buzz through it like a swarm of angry bees and he the reluctant beekeeper. His toes touch the cold end of the sheets and he flinches, causing a spasm of pain to flicker through his muscles. Simon frowns uncomfortably. His chest feels funny and he moves a hand to rub at it like that was going to make it better.
Suddenly he sits straight up, his hand flying down to smack against the sheets and his pale blue eyes so like the waters of some far off sea widen comically. Carefully, he places his hand back on his chest to tentatively feel the gentle thumping of his heart.
Without even looking, his hand claws at the bedside locker to grab his phone. Press number one and ring.
Seconds pass achingly slow until finally Simon hears the voice he needs.
"Do you realise what time it is? Go back to sleep, you twat," mumbles a grouchy Kieren, his voice deep and scratchy from sleep.
"My heart," Simon says in a voice that sounds as if he is reciting a well-known, unsurprising fact.
On the phone, Simon hears Kieren scrambling around in his bed. There's the sound of materials rubbing together and a thump, before silence.
"Owww…" Simon hears muffled in the background.
Immediately he's concerned, "What's wrong? Are you alright? Kieren?"
"Nothing, tripped. 'M fine. Be there in like ten," Kieren gasps into the phone sounding a bit winded, "I fucking love you".
Simon smiles, "I love you".
Kieren thumps on the door, kind of like how gorillas always do in the movies and he laughs at himself even as the tightness in his chest continues and sweat drips down his back tickling his newly sensitive skin. His head swims, dizzy like a Frisbee wavering in the sky on a summer's day when the breeze isn't strong enough to let it fly but it's determined enough to keep the plastic in the air, and his mouth is dry as paper and he's struggling to catch his breath.
And then Simon answers the door in tracksuits bottoms and a dusty grey blue t-shirt that clings oh so perfectly to his body. Kerian does love the jumpers but there comes a point when really they become unnecessary.
Kieren falls against him.
"Did you run all the way here?" Simon admonishes, but there's a hint of awe in his voice like there always is, like he can't believe that Kieren is real.
"Yeah. Forgot. Not fit. Ow. Think. I'm dying…
Again," Kieren pants, dragging huge gusts of breath into his lungs between every word.
Simon tenses, supports Kieren's back with one arm and grabs his face with his other hand.
"Not funny Kieren. Don't you dare," he growls.
Kieren meets his eyes.
He leans his weight against Simon, one hand shuffles up to his hair, the other pressed flat against the left side of his chest searching for the unfamiliar thump thump thump.
Kieren smiles softly against Simon's neck.
"Your heart"
Simon pets his hair. "Your heart," Simon whispers teasingly.
Kieren shoves his hand up beneath Simon's t-shirt to feel his heart beat better. Simon shivers at his cold fingers, still pink from the wind and sneaking up his skin.
"Your heart is going faster now" Kieren says in an innocent voice.
"Mm," murmurs Simon.
A broad pale hand smoothes down Kieren's back over his multilayers of shirt and t-shirt, and fingers play at the hem like piano keys being pressed, gentle as the wind. Simon rubs soft circles into Kieren's lower back, delighting in the feel of soft hot skin, covered in tiny fluffy hairs and a wet sheen of sweat from the running.
Simon lets out a groan.
"So soft, you're so soft. And so warm. Kieren…" He pleads.
Kieren laughs affectionately, overflowing with fondness for this idiot that's his.
"You're alive," he smirks smugly, "I knew you would be".
"Sssh ssh shh," Simon argues as he nuzzles into Kieren's hair, feeling the fluffy bed head tickle across his nose.
Simon moves his hand down from the back of Kieren's head, stroking steadily down the nape of his neck, along his side, down to his hip where he grabs tightly feeling the bone jut out from underneath Kieren's skin. His other hand scrapes up Kieren's spine, splaying his fingers wide against the smooth shoulders.
Kieren, smiling happily, begins tapping his fingers along to the beat of Simon's wonderful heart.
"Beautiful," he whispers into the thin skin of Simon's neck.
Painfully slow, he trails his tongue reverently up along Simon's throat, following the veins flushing with hot blood, pulsing along in time to the firm heart beat and rhythmic tapping of fingers.
At the pulse point, he laps. Once. Twice.
Simon whimpers and tightens his grip on Kieren's hip, dragging his other hand down to latch onto the belt loops of Kieren's jeans.
"Kieren, Kieren, Kieren, Kieren".
"Si," Kieren replies reassuringly, his voice calm in contrast with his own heart and body.
Simon's breathing picks up and Kieren snaps, pulling his head out from the crook of Simon's neck to grab Simon's face in both hands and pull him in to meet his lips.
Simon responds desperately, chanting "Kieren, Kieren, Kieren, I need, please, babe, oh" in between kisses.
In a brief pause, Simon kicks the still open door closed before pushing Kieren against it gently, his arms creating a cage to protect him from the hardness of the surface behind him.
Kieren grunts against Simon's soft warm lips, clutching at his black wiry hair, softer now it is out of its usual gel, and shoves Simon backwards, whirls around and places himself against the wall instead of the door.
Simon follows his lead without thought, only wanting to feel Kieren again, to feel Kieren on him and touching him and kissing him and loving him and feeling him and being with him and tasting him and smelling him and touching him and
Red fire rushes through Simon's body. He can't remember the last time he felt this desperate; this out of his mind that nothing else matters, nothing but Kieren, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.
His head feels light like he's floating on air and he can barely catch his breath. His chest is tight and his heart is pounding against his rib cage ferociously and his hips are jerking against Kieren's and his fingers are clutching relentlessly at Kieren's clothes, pulling and dragging but not focusing enough because kissing kissing, he needs to kiss Kieren because that's all that matters.
Kieren's tongue, strong and soft and so so hot, against his own tasting like mint and the chilly smell of the outside air rising off Kieren's skin like perfume and meeting with the hot air bubbling around them and creating this atmosphere of heat and wet and slick and slide and pant and bliss and moan and kiss.
And Kieren is dragging frantic hands down Simon's back, always careful of his scar, digging into his sides and one hand grabs his arse and Simon sobs from need and all he can do is repeat "Kieren, Kieren, Kieren, Kieren" over and over again like a prayer because if God has given him anything it's this beautiful boy right here and the gift of life again and this pleasure is like no other and he will cherish it until the day he is no more.
And Kieren gasps and sucks on Simon's tongue, harsh and wet, so so wet, and slips one slim thigh in between Simon's own and presses and Simon pushes his own hips forward and captures Kieren's thigh between his own like he'll never let him go and plunges his hands up Kieren's shirt and flicks one nipple and Kieren cries out and Simon bites at his lower lip and sucks and licks and feels chiselled teeth and swollen lips and a powerful tongue and Simon moves his head slightly and all he wants right now is his tongue in Kieren's mouth and Kieren's own tongue pushing back and the warmth, the warmth.
And Kieren's other hand sneaks down and with both hands he pulls Simon impossibly closer, holding him tight for a second, hard as rock as they grind into each other and then the angle slips and next thing they're not grinding into each other's thighs but groin on groin and if Simon thought Kieren was hot before this is volcanic.
And Simon groans and his eyes start to sting and he can feel a lump in his throat and his nose is tickly and tears well up unstopping and he presses his face into Kieren's neck, lifting Kieren up slightly to push him against the wall, holding him with one hand under his bent knee and the other arm up the back of Kieren's t shirt holding his shoulder like it was essential to Kieren's survival.
And they're pressing and pressing and moving and swaying and jerking and rubbing and Kieren chokes out Simon's name like a plea and it's Kieren's name that Simon's praying.
And it's almost simultaneous when it gets too much and Simon's brain fills with white and Kieren's mind goes black blank and lightning runs through their new working nerves and they're rocking and gasping and "Kieren" and "Si".
And Simon feels like his fragile ribs have shattered, emotion gushes out like a torrential wave.
He crumbles to the wooden floor, pulling Kieren with him because at this stage they're just glued together and they can't imagine ever being separate again.
Simon is trembling violently, tears rolling into Kieren's hair.
"Kieren, Kieren, Kieren".
"Sssh, ssh, ssh…" Kieren whispers, panic blooming in his chest like ink on a page as it spreads out from a purple drop.
He rushes to card his fingers through Simon's black hair and tightens his legs around Simon's hips, cradling him close.
They sit for a while, Kieren rubbing soft circles into Simon's head and Simon's breathing slows down and he murmurs with content.
After a while, Kieren feels more than hears Simon's whisper against his neck,
"I'm sorry, my love".
Suddenly Kieren feels Simon shaking again but Simon lifts his head before Kieren can worry, eyes alight with glee and says "a chuisle mo chroí".
A/N: "A chuisle mo chroí" = "the pulse of my heart" in Irish/Gaeilge.
Soz just had to end it on that note bc poetry. Also just cuteness bc his heart is working again and he's calling Kieren the pulse of his heart like Kieren's the thing keeping him alive and I'm so sorry I've just got so many feelings about my own fic. And I'm a sucker for Irish fictional characters speaking Irish.
K k thank you for reading, hope it wasn't too crappy. This is the first fic I've written for ITF but I just needed to bc I was sitting in a lecture and the idea just came to me and I was like man, I have got to write this and here we are. Slán libh, mo chairde.