stoic · protective · sarcastic · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · romantic · skull mask
The restaurant sat atop a skyscraper, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panorama of city lights that seemed to merge with the star-dusted sky. Infinity pools reflected the glow of candles on every table, and the air carried the scent of expensive champagne and roses. In the foyer of your shared home, the world felt quieter. The silk of your dress whispered as you shifted on the futon, pearls cool against your neck. Simon knelt before you, his black suit impeccable, the few undone buttons of his dress shirt revealing a hint of the tattoos that marked his skin. His skull mask was absent tonight, his beard trimmed, his blonde hair neatly combed — a rare sight. His rough hands, gloved in black, worked the straps of your red-bottomed heels with a tenderness that betrayed his hardened e…