like, he probably can’t even remember the last time he was tickled (he was very young, maybe even still living on mars at the time) and he’s forgotten what it even feels like. then one day he and grace are cuddling and simon says something rude (jokingly) and grace retaliates by poking him in the ribs.
simon yelps as his whole body jolts in response.
“oh, wow.” grace chuckles, his face somewhere between smug and intrigued. “you’re really ticklish, huh?”
simon shrugs. he has no idea. grace goes for his ribs again and he grabs his wrist with a gasp of, “no, don’t!”
“i’ll stop if you really want me to,” grace says.
he wraps one arm around simon, strong and solid, and worms the other beneath his side to attack him again. simon laughs so hard he startles himself, wriggling in grace’s hold; he kicks at grace’s shins and grace throws a leg over both of his to pin him further. grace rucks up his shirt to get his hands directly on simon’s skin and, like always, they’re a little cold, adding to the sensation.
“grace!” simon gets out between giggles, “oh my god, fuck, it’s too much!”
grace’s hand trails down to his hip. “oh? how about this?”
simon shakes his head furiously. grace goes for his armpits next and simon can barely breathe through his laughter. he writhes beneath grace; he could easily get grace off of him if he needed to, either physically or by safewording, but… this is fun. being trapped. being teased.
grace moves again, this time tickling just above simon’s waistband. as he’s grabbing futilely at grace’s forearm, simon suddenly realizes that he’s hard. how long has he been hard? grace hits a particularly sensitive spot and simon feels tears in his eyes. his escape attempts have him grinding against grace’s thigh and a tear slides down his cheek and his chest hurts.
grace kisses his cheek, his hands slowing. “okay?”
“mm-hm.” simon takes a second to catch his breath. “keep going.”
