Chapter Text
On his way home, Simon attempted to regain his shattered composure, only to find that it was impossible, even with the cool winter air biting at his skin. Snippets of the movie stubbornly reasserted themselves in his mind, interspersed with mental images of his own design.
Lucy Westenra writhing on her bed, only for a trick of the light showing her face as the one that was currently his own (Athena’s).
Mina Harker’s tongue laving at Dracula’s chest, only for the vampire’s long hair to turn black with a telltale white patch, and the dark-haired young woman’s to turn the same shade of red Lucy’s (Athena’s) was.
“I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love.”
No.
This balderdash has nothing to do with reality. I will not give in to this sentimental drivel.
Yet, his mental images kept plaguing him all the way back to her apartment.
The outer layer of his epidermis felt seared at this point, both because of the frigid air and because his skin was uncomfortably sensitive once more.
Cold. Shower. Now.
He began to undress the moment he had closed and locked the apartment door behind himself, trembling at the tiniest contact his fingertips had to make with the remainder of his body. When he removed the sopping scrap of underwear and his nails lightly scraped against the taut skin near his pelvic bone, he was wracked by a violent shiver.
Looking down on himself, equal parts dismayed and aroused, he realized once more that Athena as she was now could be a doppelganger of the actress who had played Lucy Westenra in the film, almost two decades before she had been born, and almost one decade before his own birth.
Silky skin, curved enticingly outwards on each side of his chest, both soft mounds punctuated by a rosy bud of a nipple…
Long, firm legs, slim enough to not overtly betray their strength…
Long red hair, though not curly as that of the actress, tendrils of it tickling the now nearly painfully sensitive nape of his neck…
A shuddering breath.
Before he knew what he was doing, he divested himself of the cybernetic half-glove that was Widget’s interface unit, reaching down to test the moisture between his legs for the first time.
When the tip of his finger breached his (her) body this time, unlike the numerous times he had had to exchange a tampon during prior occasions, his knees nearly buckled at the contact. The same touch, and yet so very different…
Stop this at once. This is wrong.
He flinched when his fingertip, now slick with the wetness her body had produced, accidentally brushed his clitoris upon withdrawing, at which point the traitorous part of himself, which seemed completely detached from his better judgment, decided to speak up.
She is doing this to your body, maybe right this very moment. You never decided on a rule about masturbation together, and she already has your permission to do so. Besides, the situation is unlikely to get any more embarrassing than it already is, since you have had to touch her body everywhere it matters for other purposes, anyway.
For once, Simon could not find a sufficient counterargument to ward off the temptation. His need was imperative, and no amount of time under ice-cold water would be able to staunch it at this point.
A mere few seconds later, he was stretched out on Athena’s living room couch, fingertips hesitantly moving across his breasts, surprised at the extraordinary sensitivity of the slightly darker, now puckered skin of his nipples.
His right hand all but automatically moved down between his legs again, middle finger diving inside once more, only to deliberately drag over the center of his pleasure after slickening itself with the essence of Athena’s body.
“Hngh…”
His inadvertent vocalization only managed to spurn him on; while he knew intellectually that it had been he who had uttered it, his mind supplied him with an image of Athena writhing underneath his own body, pressing herself against him.
Repeating the motion which had caused him to emit that first groan, his spine arched, pushing his right breast into the free hand he had thrown across his chest, which seemed to only have waited for the renewed contact.
He grabbed the enticing mound a little too tightly, flinching at the minuscule pain he could currently register while still reveling in the touch, his right hand now roughly rubbing at the almost aching arousal between his legs.
The arch of his back increased to an almost impossible-seeming extent as his thumb and forefinger closed around the perky, rosy bud still in his peripheral vision, his eyes sliding shut. Now, he envisioned himself driving into her as fast as humanly possible, above her, underneath her, from behind her, as two of his fingers plunged into the warm slickness while his thumb still drew clumsy yet irresistible circles just above the now-filled emptiness inside him.
The sound of his own voice (Athena’s voice) uttering his passion in escalating moans was simultaneously nearly mute and deafening beyond measure, his own heart betraying his lust to his ears and yet mistaking it for hers.
In his mind’s eye, he clutched her to himself as he stiffened, finding release deep inside her body.
That last mental image was all it took for Simon to lurch violently, his hand stilling as he felt his insides clenching tightly around his fingers, mouth falling open in a wordless outcry.
He dimly registered how long it took for him to relax from the sudden paroxysm of pleasure to which he had just succumbed; apparently, the female orgasm was a lot more momentous than its male counterpart.
Finally, he fell back, spreading bonelessly on the couch while dropping his hands to his sides. The aftershocks of his climax continued for a few minutes, and he found himself unable to think about much of anything as endorphins flooded his body.
Only after his breathing pattern had reasonably stilled, and the haze of pleasure was lifting as the moist result of his orgasm began to make itself apparent by cooling against the skin of his inner thighs, his ability to reason became functional once more, immediately presenting him with harsh judgment.
I have exploited her yet again.
Simon closed his eyes, lifting his right hand to his face, only to be faced with the dangerously illicit, intimate scent of the woman he had forbidden himself to touch and yet had so egregiously trespassed upon mere minutes ago.
I will never be able to forgive myself for this.
In an entirely futile attempt to regain his dignity, he partook in a cold shower now, even though he knew that it was not sufficient penance for what he had just allowed himself to do.