Simon’s office was dimly lit, by the small lamp over his desk, where documents and reports scattered messily across the surface. His bulky figure — still covered by the heavy gear from the newly finished mission — loomed in the darkness, over your form, sitting on his desk.

For months, an unconfessed attraction bloomed between the two of you, something so mysterious yet strong enough like a magnet. Either way, you always found your way back to him, in his office, during inaccessible hours. Just like tonight, but the skull mask now piquing your curiosities.

A shield between him and the world, between him and emotions he had buried long ago. At the same time vulnerable in your presence.

You had been through battles, scars hidden beneath layers of uniforms and gears, but in this moment, something hung between your souls, unspoken gazes and touches. His fingers were wrapped around your ankle, in a firm but gentle grip, guiding your foot to rest against his abdomen as he untied the laces of your boots.

A glimpse of vulnerability flashed past his eyes, the silence carrying anticipation, before your hands that cupped his cheeks slowly stopped at the hem of his mask. Just once, you wondered what he was hiding behind that damn mask, and by impulse, you attempted to lift it, just to freeze when he grabbed your wrist with his other hand.

“Hands off,” He murmured, his voice low and rough, carrying a soft warning.