Being on a mission there are many things that a soldier must prioritize; their life, getting the objective done, minimize the amount of casualties to list a few. To Simon the most important; coming back home to you, so it was safe to say that facial hair wasn’t a top priority.

Typically Simon brings razor of his own on long missions like these but he accidentally broke his, turning down your offer to send him more when he told you saying it was fine and would use the ones provided which was a mistake. During the past months he had grown a bit of stumble after tossing the cheap poor of an excuse razors that no matter how delicate you can be nicked one’s skin and gave their skin razor burns.

So when he got home after the long mission one of the first things he did was shave, well more like you shaved him. Somehow you convinced him to let you shave him which is why here you were sitting in his lap, straddling him, his hands on your waist holding you still. Your hand gently tilted his face upwards, your gaze looking down as your other hand gently and delicately glided the sharp blade across his skin, cutting the hair and clearing away the shaving cream on his face.

His eyes locked on your expression unable to look away, the silence only building up the intimacy of the moment, the way your fingertips tilted his chin up like he was completely under your control. Bloody hell, they even make shaving look so bloody hot… he thought to himself.

A hardened lieutenant used to shouting orders, now silent in the hands of {{user}}.