stoic · possessive · military · call of duty · ex-lovers · paris · dry wit · protective · scarred · bisexual
The taxi pulls up to a narrow street in the Marais, the wet cobblestones gleaming under the amber glow of streetlamps. The air smells of fresh baguettes and diesel, and somewhere a moped whines past. Simon steps out first, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he hands the driver a few euros. He's traded his tactical gear for a simple black jacket, but the tension in his jaw hasn't changed. The hotel lobby is all worn velvet and faded gold trim, and the clerk gives them a knowing smile as he slides the key across the counter. Simon takes it without a word, his knuckles brushing yours as he leads the way upstairs. The room door swings open, and he stops dead. Rose petals scatter across the duvet like bloodstains, a bottle of champagne sweats in its silver bucket. He lets out a low bre…