words: 3,050!
genre: mentions of smut, fluff, light angst, feelings & sexuality accepting
one mention of self harm
a rewrite of 'four times you left me stunned, and the one time it was more permanent.'
———
Their first night together hadn't gone as planned - but, in all fairness, neither of them had ever planned a 'first night' together. They disliked each other. Strongly.
It was a spur of the moment thing. Simon's hand had lightly brushed against Harry's knee, then had made its own way up to his thigh, resting itself there without moving. When Harry didn't complain about the touch, he swore to himself that it was the alcohol taking over him.
With every shot of sambuca, and every cup of vodka coke, they noticed themselves getting closer, and closer, and by the end of their night, Harry was practically sat on Simon's lap. Simon's fingers danced around Harry's waist, grazing the skin lightly with his nails, and Harry's had thrown his head back onto Simon's shoulder. They were thankful their friends had left them to dance, knew all the strange looks that they'd receive - knew that they'd never live this down.
When Simon's nails scratched over a certain point on Harry's abdomen, Harry let out a quiet whine, and let his eyes meet Simon's. The way he looked up at Simon through his eyelashes, his eyes glistening under the light, and speaking all the 'pleases' he wasn't saying out loud, had Simon finally giving into what he wanted. What tipsy Simon wanted.
He grabbed Harry's hand, and tugged him up, dragging him out of the club without even waving bye to their friends, far too occupied with the thought of what was to happen that night. Thankfully for him, it was a club not too far from his house, so he continued to drag Harry along down a few streets, before reaching his front door.
Simon's hands fumbled around in his pockets, as he frantically searched for his keys. Far too eager to take his time in looking.
They barely made it up the stairs, before Harry found himself clawing at Simon's top, and their lips had connected. Simon opened his bedroom door, forced Harry inside, then slammed it behind them, pinning Harry up against it.
The kiss was messy, and it showed hints of desperation. Their teeth knocked against one another's a few times, and their tongues intertwined almost immediately. Simon's right hand made its way to the small of Harry's back, and he pushed forward slightly, allowing their bodies to get impossibly closer. Harry moaned into the kiss, and let his hands grab onto Simon's top, begging him to remove the item of clothing.
They didn't take their time with things, instead just getting straight into it. To both of them, all it was, was a cheap, drunken hookup.
———
The morning after, Harry opened his eyes, and sat up, rubbing them as he took in the unfamiliar setting.
It took him a few moments to recall the happenings of the night before, taking in his surroundings - which weren't helping him whatsoever. He had never been in Simon's bedroom prior to then, never thought there would be a situation that would have him end up in there.
He groaned out loud as the memories came flooding to him. Simon giving it to him like he had no time to spare, as though their time together was limited. The roughness of the sex, and the lack of eye contact. He winced as he felt his dick twitch, and he caught sight of the slight bruises that had formed on his wrists.
He placed his hand on his forehead, as he looked next to him. Simon was nowhere to be seen, and the house was eerily quiet - all he could hear were his own sharp breaths.
Resting on top of the bedside table was a piece of paper, and it quickly caught Harry's attention. Maybe he was just being nosy, but he was curious on what it was. On closer inspection, he realised that his name was written on it.
