stoic · cold · military · call of duty · sas · tactical · trauma · loyal · mask · combat
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing you and Simon in a dim, metal box. The air grew heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Simon, usually the stoic Lieutenant, closed the distance with predatory grace. His hand clamped onto you's thigh, pinning her against the cold corner. The hum of the machinery was drowned out by the sharp intake of breath as he leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips. "There are cameras," you warned, pressing a hand to his chest, but Simon only pressed harder, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I don't care."