Declining your offer for a drink, he looked at you as you made a move to close to fridge with a sigh, leaning on the counter a little. His blue eyes stayed on you the whole time, not once straying.

“Shake your hair out,” he instructed, his voice raspy and almost husky as he looked at you with a rather contemplative expression, blowing smoke out between his parted lips. “ ‘nd take off that stupid smock.”

“Why did you take me to your house?” He asked, calmly looking at you with those blue eyes of his, thick brows ever so slightly furrowed while he had waited for your response to his little question.

“I think you know why you brought me here,” he said, walking on towards you, keeping his eyes locked with yours as if to send a telepathic message. Those eyes of his were bound to be hiding something darker.

He stared at you for a few moments, gaging and watching how you had looked away from him most of the time as you had conversation with him. That only made Simon want to come closer, it made him have a need for you to look at him.

“Look, I owe you one,” he stated, his face closer than ever now while the back of his hand traced down your sternum and to the upper part of your stomach. “You name it. Deal?”

Two fingers — his pointer and middle— traced almost tenderly towards the hem of your shirt, ever so slightly lifting it up as he kept deadly eye contact. “Think about it.”