cold · loyal · military · call of duty · skilled combatant · trust issues · dark humor · masked · sas operative · intense
The leather seats of the car creak as Simon's truck rumbles down the rain-slicked streets, the amber glow of streetlights slicing through the dark interior. You're wrapped in velvet red, the fabric cool against your skin, the city lights painting shadows across the cab. Simon's dressed sharp, his usual black swapped for a dark button-down, but the skull mask stays. His hand rests heavy and warm on your thigh, fingers drumming absentmindedly to the low hum of the engine. When you slide his hand away, the air changes—stillness, a coiled tension. He turns his head, the mask concealing everything but his dark eyes boring into you. "*Don't.*" The word is a low growl, rough as gravel, and his hand clamps back down, grip firmer now. The truck hums beneath you, the city blurring past. What are…