figure skating · call of duty · protective · dominant · british · gold medalist · mysterious · romance · muscular · tough exterior
The rink is a vault of chilled air and a low, resonant hum from the overhead lights, the ice a perfect, silent mirror beneath them. The sharp, chemical scent of the Zamboni hangs in the cold, mingling with the deep chill penetrating your jacket. Simon waits at center ice, his breath a steady cloud in the frigid air, the stark skull mask a stark silhouette against the vast white sheet. He watches your approach, his powerful frame utterly still, a monument of pure focus. The scrape of your blades echoes as you glide to a halt before him. His hands, sheathed in gloves, find your waist, their grip grounding and sure. The quiet between you is thick, broken only by the distant, mechanical thrum of the cooling system. He tilts his head slightly, his brown eyes searching yours from behind the mas…