Sidemen Shots

Missionary - Minishaw

- Smut, mentioned/referenced past internalised homophobia. Implicit smut, dom/sub undertones. 

JJ, if he knew about Simon's thoughts, would call Simon a creep. A bit of a weirdo, if you will.

Vik and Tobi, as one, would aw at him and moon over how 'romantic he was'. They'd think it was cute... endearing.

Josh would likely tease him, though he'd do it with that sly smile of his that somehow concealed every ounce of fondness he held within his body.

Ethan, on the other hand, would make ribbing jokes until he ran out of breath, cackling like mad with a face so red it looked like only Aloe Vera could save him.

~~~

Harry's eyes were beautiful. If Simon wasn't concerned he fancied Harry from the very first moment he saw him, then he was one hundred percent sure by the time they first made (accidental) eye contact, almost three years after their first meeting.

Simon's assumption (fear, at that early stage) that he liked Harry, that he was attracted to him, was strongly cemented with just a glimpse into Harry's hardened eyes. Whilst tough, guarded, they were stunning; just like the rest of him was.

~~~

"Mwah!" Simon giggled uncontrollably to himself as his lips smashed against his boyfriend's cheek heavily, a grin forming instantly upon his own chapped lips.

As Simon giggled, Harry flushed, the heated pink suddenly providing emphasis to the faint spattering of tiny freckles dotted across his nose and under his eyes.

Despite that, Harry too was grinning, though his own was much more subdued, an involuntarily twitch of his lips rather than an enamored side affect of his emotional state.

"Stop it, Simon! Everyone's watching." Harry ordered, trying to appear stern and assertive, commanding. He, as he so often did, failed.

Simon giggled to himself, again, both mentally and physically present yet seeming far, far away at the same time; in his own little world.

"But I woooovvvee yooouuu."

~~~

"Bro has a fucking face kink, I swear!" Ethan made the joke, then glanced both left and right at his gathered friends, clearly awaiting (seeking) a positive reaction, several laughs as amused in tone as his own was.

Up until then, Simon had thought that Ethan was being a pretty entertaining host: some of their friends clearly still thought that, but not Simon. Not after the joke that was just shared at his own expense.

"I do not have a face kink, Ethan." Simon shot back, blue eyes stormy, his nettled expression outlined with furrowed brows and downturned lips.

The joke, in the first place, had been brought on by a private moment between Simon and Harry. (Well, as private a moment as they could get whilst stuck in a room surrounded by a small group of their closest friends).

Harry had been leaned back against Ethan's sofa, in the corner, with Simon leaned over and whispering in his ear, whatever words he spoke making the younger one giggle, though restrictively in order to not draw attention to them. (They already had.)

Simon had backed away from the soft skin beneath Harry's ear for a second, stopped nosing at his jaw, gave his neck a brief break from Simon's warm breath.

As Harry had continued to giggle, with his tongue between his teeth, affecting the outcome of its sound, Simon had gazed at him lovingly. A thumb had come up to lightly glide across his face, tracing the features he had become so infatuated with, over time. Over years of watching Harry a little too closely.

So what if Simon had accidentally shown a bit too much PDA, given a little bit of insight into their rather private affairs - it was just, he had gotten distracted. Harry was distracting, always had been, to Simon. (Whether Simon liked it or not. No matter how much he tried to fight it before.)

But that didn't mean Ethan had a right to prey on his weakness. (And by weakness, he meant his interest in Harry, of course.)

~~~

"Can we do it this way?" Simon asked his boyfriend, laying atop him on his bed with a hand on his cheek, long fingers stretched out, a thumb rubbing little back and forths across Harry's cheek. "Please?"

The question was Simon's attempt at a command. Sometimes, Simon couldn't lose himself to the dominant Harry wanted him to be, couldn't demand precious things of Harry in fear of going too far - even with things like safe words and the stop light system in place. Some days he just didn't trust himself enough to place himself on such a pedestal, even though whenever he did, it never meant that Harry was beneath him, in any way. Simon just wasn't too sure on his capability of coming down from that pedestal.

Harry bit his lip in response, staring - not looking - up at Simon with wet, glazed over eyes, emotional despite the strong lack of a scene between the two of them. Harry went to nod, slowly, only to change his mind mid-nod and start to shake his head instead. Likely he had realised what such a position would entail (i.e. Simon looking at him throughout the entirety of this activity, of Simon noticing the little details and paying him far too much attention).

"... no."

Without another word, Harry lightly pushed Simon back, then turned himself over on the bed.

"... like this."

Simon knew exactly why Harry chose to do it this way: he didn't like the reason though, had been trying for a while to rid his boyfriend of such uncertainty, such insecurities.

Simon sighed, his right index finger grazing delicately over a dark freckle on the skin over Harry's right shoulder blade.

"If you're sure."

Harry only hummed his response.

~~~

"Wan' it like this." Simon said, more assertive than the last time, drink-hardened yet still gentle.

As he spoke, Simon rolled Harry over on the bed; not there's, he knew that, but he wasn't sure whose, exactly. One of their friends', presumably. Sober them would have a lot to make up for, if that was indeed the case.

Harry didn't complain, didn't correct him, didn't object, only stared up at him with wide, glossy eyes, his open mouth looking seconds away from dribbling.

The two had consumed the same amount of alcohol that night, eaten the very same amount (little to nothing all day) and were both very gone. Still, Harry was somehow more gone than Simon, whether for alcohol related reasons or another, Simon wasn't sure. (Though he assumed 'another'. Likely Harry's natural desire to submit to someone.)

"Luv you like this, Harry. S' good, Haz." Simon whispered, hiding his face away in Harry's neck after a couple seconds too long of intense eye contact. A tear slipped down Simon's cheek, unnecessarily, pathetically.

God, he loved this man so much.