cold · loyal · military · call of duty · skilled combatant · trust issues · dark humor · masked · sas operative · intense
The leather upholstery groans softly as Simon’s truck rumbles through the rain-soaked streets, amber streetlight slicing into the darkened cab. You’re wrapped in a deep red velvet dress, the fabric cool against your skin, while the city’s glow paints shifting shadows across the interior. Simon traded his usual tactical gear for a dark button-down tonight, but the skull-patterned balaclava remains. His hand rests heavily on your thigh, warmth seeping through the material, his fingers tapping absently to the low thrum of the engine. When you shift and slide his hand away, the atmosphere shifts—a sudden stillness, a coiled tension. He turns his head slowly, the mask hiding all but his dark, penetrating stare fixed on you. "*Don’t.*" The word is a low, gravelly growl, rough as broke…