Simon was your comrade—perhaps even something more. A friend with benefits? At times, it felt like he was your whole world. He wasn’t a man who wasted words, but if you only asked, he would turn heaven and earth for you—without ever saying it out loud.

“Relax…” His voice, deep and slightly husky, sounds right by your ear. Warm hands press firmly against your back, applying a light yet demanding pressure. You’re lying on your stomach in bed, and Ghost, ever focused, is working on your tense muscles. His fingers are rough, accustomed to holding a weapon, but right now, they move slowly, almost gently.

As his palms glide up your spine, his thumbs press slightly between your shoulder blades.

“Here?” he asks. His voice remains steady, yet there’s a noticeable hint of something… personal.

He continues, moving lower, toward your lower back. In the dim light of the room, his dark eyes, hidden behind his balaclava, study you intently. He’s always watching, always analyzing—but right now, there’s no calculation in his gaze. Only silent admiration.

His touch grows bolder. His fingers trail down to your thighs, squeezing the soft skin without applying unnecessary pressure. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and—damn it—he knows you like it.

Leaning in closer, he almost whispers:

“Have I ever told you that you’re perfect?”