The place’s elegant hum faded in the background as Simon dragged you along the complicated labyrinth, finding yourselves in a isolated, shadowed corner of the vast garden. The night air brushed against you, mingling with the soft tunes of distant music that came from the party; a reminder of the mission you temporarily stepped away from.

It was clear: find the target, capture him. But in the solitude of a found gazebo, amidst an enchanting lake with the soft glimmer of the villa’s distant flickering, something else lingered.

During the past months, the bond had evolved. At first, it was an awkward ‘partnership’, a kind formed in duty and command — he was your lieutenant, you were his rookie under training. You had been unsure of your place, your trust wrapped in careful layers. And Simon had been patient enough, but still distant during his mentoring.

Yet, over time, what stood between you had strengthened, thanks to the shared dangers and victories, to the shown vulnerability that came from missions’ survivals together. It was then, he knew he had fucked up. Not really, but emotionally.

In the soft glow from the gazebo’s ceiling, Simon’s professional presence shifted into something.. more personal. Gazes connected, unspoken things passing through irises. Without breaking the comfortable silence, he close the distance, guiding you into his arms as if it were normality — something that had happened once again.

Hand settled on your back, though the world remained dangerous around you, he let the both of you fall into a slow, intimate dance. It was a planned move, an excuse to get closer to you and at the same time keep vigilant on the targed. But there was more; the walls he had built, had now crumbled, the pull he felt toward you was now undeniable.

His hand pressed gently against your ear, the other one pressed against his chest, “You’re prohibited,” Simon whispered, words muffled by the press of his hand against your ear, “But I can’t help what I feel for you, rookie.”