The Smut Collective

•Forbidden Fruit•

***Summary: Joining the 141 had one hard rule: no relationships of any kind between members, but that is something proving to be too much the closer you and Simon get.***

You weren't meant to be here, panting like an animal in heat, nearly naked in Simon's bed as his fingers traced burning lines down your abdomen and over the curve of your hips to tug playfully at the seam of your panties. Yet that's exactly where you found yourself.

You were pure temptation, forbidden fruit, the most delicious type of sin; you were not supposed to be doing this, but from the moment you first met when you joined the task force as their medic he knew he had to have you and nothing could sate that growing, gnawing hunger in him until he possessed every last inch of you for his own.

It had started innocent enough: chaste glances whenever you came into contact, friendly quips and pleasantries, guiltless touches that never lingered more than need be... until that just wasn't enough. That nagging ache was just too strong to hold off the closer you both got, the attraction clouding all judgment that told him this was wrong and that he should leave it alone; coworkers couldn't get involved, that was the one rule that was strictly upheld when you joined the task force.

This wasn't like him to risk his job, but he just couldn't let these feelings go.

How could he when you made him feel alive for the first time in years? Even just being in your presence left him giddy like a fucking teenager again, full of raging hormones and excitement for days after. Why would he not want to have that all for himself?

You weren't much better, not once you realized what was happening between you. "We're just friends," you'd repeat over and over as if the very utterance of the phrase could alter what was slowly creeping its way inside your mind, but the more Simon found reasons to come visit you in the infirmary, the more you knew what not nipping this in the bud would lead to.

And yet you didn't want it to stop.

He was more than the stoic killer, the man cloaked in the face of death; he was passionate and smart and he looked at you as if he would burn everything to the fucking ground and salt the earth just to have you. To be coveted in such an all-consuming way, having never experienced something so intense before, that was euphoric. How could you possibly let that just walk away?

It was just drinks, it was just staying out a little later than usual, it was just a little crush that'll pass; that was your excuses for him time and again. And yet you could not help the way you began to imagine coveting such intense passion for your own or what it would be like to have such a strong, virile man take you rough and exasperatedly. To belong to someone who was so obviously obsessed he could not help himself that he was willing to risk it all, put his entire life into jeopardy, it was hard not to get sucked in.

No, not just anyone. Simon. Only Simon.

So that was how you found yourself in his room after hours by some flimsy excuse made that you couldn't even remember now. And the low light of the room, the tension permeating the space like a heavy fog, the closeness of that beast of a man as he looked down at you with those eyes that screamed he was being swallowed whole by his desire was enough to make things start.

Calloused fingertips sliding across your bare arm were then suddenly around your waist and then your hip. Not once did you try to swat his hand away; you didn't want that feeling caused by his touch to stop, the one making your mind fuzzy.

Then his shirt was off along with your own and Simon found himself struggling to breathe. Inhaling deep and exhaling just as heavy, he could only stare back at all that soft, supple skin. "Goddamn," he stammered out the breathless word as those fingers traced patterns on your palms hanging at your sides. "You're more beautiful than I coulda fuckin' imagined, sweetheart."