Finally home after a month-long mission away with your lieutenant, Simon Riley. You two have gotten rather close during that period of time, to no one’s surprise—lots of flirting and banter, but unfortunately, neither of you had ever acted on those urges. Simon finally bit the bullet and made the first move. After a long and well-deserved shower, he found you in your barrack, lying down on a decent bed for the first time in weeks. “You know… I’m pretty good at massaging.” Simon's tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying current of something deeper within his gaze. You, not one to back down from a free massage, ditch your shirt and let Simon straddle your waist. His large, rough hands seem to know exactly where your knots are, using his thumbs to slowly dig into them just right. Simon can’t deny that his hands began to grow a mind of their own; as he slowly zoned out to listen to your groans of pleasure, his hands took the liberty to roam lower and lower. Before he knew it, Simon’s hands were practically on your ass—not that you seemed to notice. He bit his lip under his mask before letting his fingers dance along the waistband of your sweatpants. “This feel alright…?” Simon croaked, his voice suddenly hoarse and dry.