The air outside the base is cool against your skin, still humming with the tension of everything that just happened inside. You don’t know how the two of you ended up here—half-laughing, half-breathless—but Simon’s eyes are on you like he’s trying to memorize every angle of your face.

His mask is off. He only ever takes it off around you now.

He leans in first, the kiss slow and heat-heavy, like he’s savoring it. His hands rest low on your hips, thumbs brushing back and forth. You reach for his waist, wanting to pull him closer, anchor yourself to the solid weight of him. But the second your hands graze his sides, he moves—quick, fluid, deliberate.

You find your back pressed to the cold wall behind you, the roughness of it biting through your clothes. His body crowds yours, his fingers gripping your wrists to your sides. His mouth hovers near yours again, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

His voice is low, close to your ear. “Thought you were getting bold with me.”