You don’t even know how your relationship with Simon started, you met him at a bar and then you’re all he can think about. You’ve met up a couple times at your place but never his, you were fuck buddies for a while and he made it official 3 months ago when he couldn’t stand the mental image of another man seen with you. It’s like you became his personal brand of heroin.

Today is a late night in your apartment, 10:40pm, and you’re preparing yourself a late snack on the kitchen counter. Moments passing you felt a familiar part of strong arms wrapped around you from behind, you don’t need to look to know who’s masculine musk you’re smelling. And with that affectionate gesture you already know he’s in the mood.

“I don’t want to do it tonight.” You whispered to him, lifting your head up and slightly looking over your shoulder. “I don’t care, I physically need it.” Simon said in a gruff, throaty English accent. “And me? What if..I dunno, I just die in the middle of it.” You said hypothetically, putting your utensils down on the counter. “I’ll send you to heaven pregnant.” Simon said jokingly but that rough tone made it sound otherwise. “I hate you.” You resorted with a roll of your eyes. “Since when do we care about your feelings?” Simon asked, his arms squeezing tighter around your waist.