This is my take on the love scene that would have happened between Simon and Alisha if the cheerleaders hadn't turned into flesh-eating psychopaths!

Thanks to all the reviews! :) To the reviewer who wondered about Simon's shyness... I'm guilty. Shy Simon is fun to write and I just wanted to explore the development of their relationship whilst trying to give it a reason for happening - rather than it be just a random sex scene :)

I don't own Misfits. Unfortunately.

"Happy birthday, Simon."

Simon looks up from his spot at the end of the bed, the open comic-book falling into his lap. Did he just die? Maybe he was dying; he certainly couldn't breathe.

"Alisha?" She's standing in the doorway of the lift, a cake balanced in one hand, the other hand dancing self-consciously in the air around herself. He gapes at her, at the red cheerleader outfit barely covering his girlfriend's beautiful body. It's too small and far too tight.

"It's my cousin's," she explains, reaching up to pull at the material straining uncomfortably across her chest. The action back fires, the movement causing the material of the skirt to ride up her legs. She quickly reaches down to yank it back into place, the cake wobbling. "She's ten."

Simon mirrors her movement, pulling on his own shirt collar that was clearly restricting his airway somehow, as his gaze lingers on her body.

A faint and foreign blush starts to stain her cheeks, the unusual warmth burning. The look that he's giving her; it's too intense. It verges on being predator. She waits for him to move; to close in on her. But he stays put, his lack of self confidence chaining him to the bed. It drives her insane; his eyes are devouring her but his mind is too scared to come and take it.

"Come and take the cake, yeah?" She says softly, fidgeting with discomfort and arousal.

The relief on his face at being told what to do makes her heart flutter, and she watches him discard the comic and awkwardly stride over to her, freeing her hands of cake. The look... He can't take his fucking eyes off her; big blue-grey eyes peaking out under his lashes. Unfair annoyance prickles under her skin. Stop it! Or... do something about it.

"You look beautiful," he whispers, his eyes releasing her as he looks at the floor.

She doesn't say anything. She can't. Did she just die? Her heart races and the heat flares defiantly in her face, a small smile tugging at her full lips.

"S-so does the cake," he mumbles, tugging at his hair with his free hand. "No. N-nice. It looks nice."

He looks at her timidly, his own nervous smile breaking out as he registers the look in her eyes.

"You want some?" He offers, placing the cake carefully down on the kitchen side.

She slowly shakes her head, craving something more than cake. She bridges the gap between them as she reaches out her hand and he takes it gently in his. "Later," she whispers and goes to lead him toward the bed.

"Alisha." She gasps when he yanks her arm, stopping her from walking forward. "Sorry," he almost yips, eyes widening at himself. "I just..."

Alisha watches Simon's eyes flicker down to her bum, hover, and then flick back to her eyes. He doesn't need to explain himself and she grins at him.

"I'm yours, Simon," she says huskily. "You can look at me all you want."

The hand around hers slowly tightens and loosens, silently asking permission. Eyes wide and probing.

"Yes." She swallows thickly. "You can touch me all you want too."

Alisha's hand drops to her side as familiar, gentle fingers stroke her ass hesitantly.

"Simon..." She lets her eyelids flitter shut and she moans quietly. Nothing is hard enough or fast enough, but it's enough.

He takes a step towards her, his own urges taking over, making him temporarily brave. He can't stop his hand from tightening around her ass cheek as he brushes his lips against hers. "Alisha."

It's a delicate sigh against her skin but it sets her on fire.

"The bed..." She groans out the words, not sure if she's dragging him or he's dragging her.

His back hits the mattress and she falls on top of him, the skirt rippling around her as she tries to sit up. Her movements are halted as Simon's hands pull softly on her shoulders, his knees pushing against her thighs. She gapes up him as he flips her over, grinding himself into her needfully, capturing her lips in his own.

"Alisha, please," he begs between kisses, neither of them sure what he's asking for.

He drags his mouth wetly across her cheek, over her ear, sucks on her earlobe. Girls were suppose to like that, right?

Her breath is hot against his face as she wriggles wantonly underneath him, fighting to get his lips back. She grabs his face and pushes his mouth apart with hers, stroking the tip of her tongue against his.

"Alisha." It doesn't sound like a question but he stops kissing her to say it.

"Simon?"

She watches him close his eyes and his head lull forward; his forehead bumping against hers before stilling and resting there, excitement and control slipping from his grasp.

"I need to know if I'm doing it right," he admits defeatedly against her without opening his eyes. "Tell me I'm doing it right."

She feels her heart stutter and sink at the lost look on his face, forgetting how new to this he is.

To her it doesn't matter what he does; it feels good because it's him.

"You're doing it right," she says, stroking his back.

Simon shyly opens his eyes - so close to hers they blur - and stares disbelieving at her until her skin tingles.

"Simon, it's in everything I do. Every moan is for you." She blushes again, the words so painfully truthful on her lips. "Your hand right there..." She nods towards his fingers resting lightly on her hip. "That's turning me to fucking jelly."

Alisha smiles tenderly at the look on his face; something close to love lighting behind his eyes, as something more than love roots itself firmly under her skin.

"And anyway," she continues, starting to unbutton his shirt. "How do I know I'm doing it right?"

He nudges his nose lightly against hers before rocking his hips forcefully into her lower half.

She can feel his erection pushing against her stomach and she groans.

"You're doing it right," he mumbles and crashes his lips to hers.

His thumbs hook under her skirt, softly pushing the material up her thighs, exposing her pink underwear. His mouth latches lightly onto her chest, sucking her nipples through the material.

The fact the costume is on loan goes right out of her head. She thrashes against the bed, enjoying the feel of his mouth too much.

She unbuckles his belt and pushes at the shirt until it slips over his shoulders. His pale, powerful physique in direct contrast to his tentative movements. His muscles making him a predator; his heart making him prey.

Alisha squirms at the thought, for once happy to be right in the middle of the two extremes. The uncertainty and focus in his eyes holds his strength at bay; concentration and pleasure his only thoughts.

Simon feels her body move against him; he listens for her moans, watches for the slight flutter of her eyelids.

His hands go to either side of her breasts and he drags them downwards, tracing the shape of her body. His hands are hot and clammy through the material, heating her skin damply with every touch. Over her hips, around to the swell of her ass, she whimpers in anticipation. He reaches her knees and brushes the skin behind them with the pads of his fingertips, before allowing his hands to creep up her thighs and under her skirt. He touches the waistband of her knickers, his fingers automatically curving under the fabric. He stops and looks up at her; watches her ample chest rise and fall sensually, her swollen lips parted and silently begging.

"Please Simon!" She whines, pushing her hips up into his hands.

She's so beautiful, even when needy and flustered; more so knowing he's made her like it.

He slowly, ever so slowly, pulls her knickers over her bum and down her legs, the material tickling all the way. It coaxes out a wave of pleasure, wetness hitting her groin. He can smell the heat of her arousal, pooling between her legs.

"Alisha!" He growls out her name, eyes zeroing in on the apex of her thighs as he struggles out of his clothing.

Now she's devouring him; the power of his arms, the expanse of his chest, his erection touching her knees. Her legs fall open for him, the skirt bunching around her waist. Her dark skin invites him in, the backs of her heels hooking behind his knees and pulling him closer. The tip of him slides against her centre and they both shiver.

"Fuck!" She yells, ramming her eyes closed as his own face contorts with pleasure.

She reaches down and places him at her entrance, his body hunching over hers, a hand either side of her head.

He leans down to kiss her and freezes just above her lips.

"Where are your pom-poms?" He suddenly bursts out, his length pressing against her opening. He raises an eyebrow cheekily, grinning at her shyly.

"Simon!" She lets out a breathy laugh, pulling at his legs with hers until he's sheathed wholly inside of her.

Home.

He stills against her when he's filled her completely, letting them both adjust to the intrusion. It overwhelms them both, the feeling that crashes down on them as their bodies merge. It's more than sexual; it's a tie. A bond so tight they couldn't fight it if they wanted to. It's almost suffocating, both of them panting despite the stillness.

His eyes hover affectionately over hers; no words, no kisses, no movement.

The feeling doesn't go; it just calms in their chests and ignites where they're joined, transforming into desire.

His body relaxes, the weight of his chest pressing into her breasts as he shifts his weight onto his forearms. He starts to move inside her, thoroughly and deeply, covering himself in her arousal. Her ankles claim the skin of his ass, pulling him in even deeper.

I had a good teacher.

The words bounce in her blood and she forces herself to focus as much as he is, meeting each thrust with precision and slowness. When she feels him start to tense too soon, she quickly releases him from the trap of her ankles, her hold on his head going lose around his neck.

"Slow," she whispers to him, stroking the delicate skin behind his ear with her thumb.

She's anything but calm as she breathes deeply through her nose; Simon mimicking her behaviour as their thrusts diminish to a gentle rolling of their hips.

Confident Simon is gone. His shyness tumbles down on him as he tucks his head under her chin, his forehead burrowing into her neck. His hips move relentlessly against her, his eagerness battling with his focus to do anything but come.

"Simon. It's okay," she mumbles into his hair, strands of it tickling her face. He's concentrating so hard the rest of him has shut down, his body tight and hunched against her.

"It's. Not." He chokes out the words, breaking her heart.

She reaches down between them, fingers grating over her clit, but Simon determinedly pushes her hand away; replacing her hand with his own. The tips of his fingers firmly rub her bud, her hips bucking against him uncontrollably, causing him to groan out in pain.

She'd apologise but she can't fucking breathe. She chucks her head back into the pillows, her teeth sinking into her lips as her nails sink into his shoulders.

He's fixated on not going without her; he's never wanted to give something to someone so badly.

"Fuck! Simon!" He starts to thrust into her harder, and faster, his head hitting her chin as she opens her legs wider to take all of what he is giving. "You're doing it right! You're doing it right!" She cries out as he rolls her clit between his fingers, disjointedly in rhythm with his thrusts. Breathless, and in blissful agony, it only takes the sound of his pained moans in her ear for her to shiver and burst, coming undone at his touch.

She'd loved him and lost him and loved him again; would always love him.

She wraps her arms around him, one hand on the back of his head as he jerks against her; the clenching of her insides breaking his hold; freeing him from his own torture. He squeaks against her shoulder and she grins, leaning her head against his. He could tell her he wanted to piss on her tits right now and she wouldn't care; she loved him too much. The pounding in her heart had scared her before but it didn't any longer; her love for him defined her and she was proud of it.

His body stills against her, while his lower half continues to throb and pulsate against her sensitive spot. She waits for him to say something but he just gingerly presses his lips into the curve of her neck. It makes her laugh; he'd made love to her, was still so intimately positioned inside her, yet he couldn't look her in the eyes.

"Simon, say something." She laughs even more, her breasts pushing up into his chest with the movement. She was far too giddy with a post-orgasmic high.

His eyes peak out from under her chin, studying her face as he tries to work out why she's laughing. Was she laughing at him? Doubt starts to seep into the corners his eyes, making them go wide and stare-y.

"Simon!" She strokes the side of his face, immediately understanding his thought process. "I'm laughing because I'm happy. You're getting better."

He sighs in relief, his eyes turning bright and devoted, his mouth seeking out a kiss. When he pulls away and breaks his silence, his voice is croaky and broken.

"Well I've got a good teacher," he says, and dips back down for another kiss.

Um, I was kind of terrified writing this. So please review! I love reviews wayyy more than Simon loves Alisha ;) Thanks for reading!