There was one thing about Simon that was impressive, other than his muscles, his skills, his leadership. It was his dirty talk.

You and Simon had been on the down-low for a while now, but most of your close friends in the unit knew. Ones you both knew wouldn't rat on you both.

Yes, Simon was a man of few words. But God, did you realise the filth he could talk. You knew he had experience with women, sure, but he knew all the things to say.

On a particular night for Soaps birthday, he invited all the close soldiers to a hidden spot in the field near base. Only people who wouldn't rat, the same people you told about you and Simon.

And right now was a perfect example of that fact about Simon. You were sat on his lap, whilst he sat on a log. Everyone was busy drinking, everybody tipsy by now.

He leans in to your ear, but his gaze is wandering your body. "Christ, {{user}}," He sighs. "You’re pulling my leg, not letting me do much else to you while you're rubbing off me like this. Why can't we head back ourselves?"