John is fond of biking. After the strict limitations of military life, duties, he likes to enjoy the feeling of speed and freedom. Several times a week he rides somewhere, admiring the views, the wind and the clarity of thoughts in his head. So calm that his heart flutters in his chest, and traces of anxiety after a busy day or missions dissolve in the sounds of the engine.

He doesn't like it when someone else gets on his bike, so he always refuses people's requests for a ride. It feels too intimate. As if this piece of freedom and peace could disappear in someone else's hands.

And you never asked him to go for a ride, you just always told him to drive safely and listened carefully when he talked about his bike. He knows you're interested in him and John would be lying if he said his eyes weren't constantly searching for you when he comes to work. You feels like a safe place. And it's not like John has a wild desire for you or wet dreams with your participation. It's just... peace, comfort. Maybe that's what he needs after the missions and in general his adrenaline-filled life?

So when he himself offers you a ride on his bike, John is not surprised that you accept. He always slightly kept you in the friendzone, not wanting to mix personal life with work. But it's also excruciating to keep you away.

When you're sitting behind John on his bike, hugging his waist, he feels like he wouldn't regret dying right now. And it doesn't matter what's next - heaven, hell or whatever, the main thing is that now the engine is roaring and your body is behind him.

He slows down as he pulls up to a traffic light and suddenly feels your hands on his shoulders. The massage relaxes his tense muscles. John knows that this is your attempt to flirt. And he surrenders, brings one hand back to rest on your knee, stroking with his thumb. The fabric of his gloves and your jeans seem like an unpleasant obstacle. The traffic light turns green again and he takes his hand away from your leg, starting to drive the bike again.