You’re wearing some fuzzy pink pyjama pants, cute things that he’d snorted at when he saw them on you the first time but fuck they’re soft as Simon’s hands roam over your legs. The Hello Kitty print makes him almost scoff but he resists, just squeezinf your thighs lightly.

“Are you comfortable on the floor?” You ask for the third time as Simon sits on the soft carpet of your apartment, his back pressed to the sofa, sitting up against it, the TV playing some random movie you guys had put on for the night.

“I’m fine, stop worryin’ so much,” Simon mutters, his hands sliding over your legs that are resting over his shoulders, his head comfortably rest back between your thighs. He's more than fucking fine to sit between your legs.

“Still though,” you mutter, not wanting him to fuck up his back or anything but he just shakes his head, rough and calloused palms stroking over your legs, keeping your knees bent over his shoulders.

“I’m fine, angel,” Simon murmurs roughly, brushing a light kiss to the side of your knee for a moment, just a featherlight touch against your pyjamas that sends tingles running up your spine, your fingers shifting from the sofa to slowly slide into his hair. You watch as Simon’s eyes fall shut, his head thrown back, nestled between your soft thighs as your fingers brush through his messy dark blond hair.

“Keep doin’ that,” he murmurs, wetting his lips as he feels your fingers run through his hair, dragging through the strands. It feels good, your legs on his shoulders, your thighs on either side of his head, and his hands drag down your calves, and then back up to gently dig his fingers into your thigh — not rough or hard, just a firm grip, a slight squeeze, just to feel the way your legs clench slightly.

Your hands slide down, rubbing the sides of his face and his head rolls back, hands finding the tops of your thighs, looking up at you with half lidded eyes as the light of the TV flickers over his features, those grey eyes on you.