#simon abc

[lucifers-trash-stash]

J is for Jeep

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m back with my entry for @simons-thirst-squad‘s ABC Challenge! This is my first time writing a fic with Simon as the main character, and he’s getting quite frisky with the reader in his Jeep. No plot here folks, only smut. ;)

Words: 1831

Warnings: Smut, semi-public, Jeep sex, oral sex, Simon’s muscles.

You found yourself being jolted awake to the sound of the car door opening. Even with your blurred gaze from the sleep seeds in your eyes, you recognized the figure that hoisted himself into the driver’s seat next to you in the inky darkness of the night. Simon gave you a lopsided grin as he looked down at you, curled up into a ball with your face pressed against the glass of the passenger’s side door.

“Morning sleepyhead,” he chuckled as he reached over and gripped your thigh, playfully shaking your leg to wake you up.

You stifled a laugh and swatted his hand away. You were never good at staying awake during all-nighter runs. Thankfully, being Simon’s girlfriend gave you a few perks, one being that he let you sleep in his mammoth sized Jeep until the crew set out again in the morning.

With a soft yawn, you scooted over to Simon and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before nestling your head on his shoulder. He chuckled and wrapped a muscular arm around your shoulders and pulled you in closer. You couldn’t quite place what you loved about his smell, just that his manly scent felt comforting and protective whenever you hugged him.

“Are you turning in for the night?” you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He grinned down at you before gripping your waist and pulling you up onto his lap. You giggled at the sensation of his mustache brushing against the sensitive area of skin just below your jaw as he peppered kisses down your neck. “Something like that,” he mumbled into your skin.

He let you squirm in his arms for a bit as you gripped the lapels of his shirt. He took the opportunity to press a kiss to your lips, hungry and full of desire. You tangled one of your hands in his hair, not worrying about mussing it up because he always looked like he just stumbled out of bed.

A gasp escaped your throat as Simon flipped you back onto the seat and loomed over you. His lips never leave yours as his calloused fingers traced their way up your side and underneath your shirt.

“Simon,” you breathed out, trying to push his hand back down. “We can’t. They’ll hear.”

You weren’t sure where the rest of Simon’s group of Saviors were staying for the night, but it couldn’t have been too far from where the Jeep stood. While the Jeep was too tall for anyone to easily peer into, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hold back when you were in the throes of ecstasy.

Simon’s hand slipped further up, grazing against your stomach before settling on your breast. His large hand easily held you in his hand, gently squeezing over the fabric of your bra.

He gave you a mischievous look before he said, “Don’t think you can keep quiet, baby?”

You huffed and looked up at him. “Is that a challenge?” you asked.

He grinned. “I suppose so,” he murmured as he settled his knees in between yours. You could already feel his growing hardness grind against your jeans. “That is, if you’re not too afraid of getting caught.”

That settled it. You yanked down on the collar of his shirt until his lips smashed down onto yours. You felt him chuckle against your lips as you tore open his shirt and ran your hand down his muscular chest, gliding your fingers across his abs over his undershirt.

Simon sat up and yanked both shirts off his body, balling them up and tossing them somewhere over the seat. Before you could admire his broad chest and shoulders like you usually did, he pulled you up so he could pull your shirt over your head with one fluid motion. He didn’t hesitate on unclasping your bra either, and he flung that into the back with the rest of the clothes.  

“Careful there. If you lose my favorite bra back there I won’t be happy with you,” you teased as Simon pushed you back onto the leather cover of the seat beneath you.

“I’ll lead the search party after this,” Simon whispered before dipping his head into your cleavage and pressing your breasts to his face as he sucked on your tender skin. You let out a soft whine and gripped the back of his neck for leverage while he wrapped his tongue around one of your nipples. His bulky arms held you in place as he started relentlessly sucking on your hardening bud while rolling the other over in his fingers. You bit your lip to hold back the loud moans you wanted to make as he deliciously tortured your body.

He moved lower down your chest, pressing kisses along your ribs and to your stomach, worshiping every inch of your body in hopes of pulling another whine out of your throat. Once he reached your hips, he’d already wrenched your jeans and panties down your thighs and thrown them god knows where.

He gave you no warning before pressing his face against your sex, his tongue already hard at work exploring your folds and tasting the growing wetness there. You leaned back against the seat, trying to escape his tongue for a moment of relief as you bit down hard on your lip. He doesn’t let you. Instead his calloused fingers dug into your hips and pulled you as close as humanly possible, ignoring your desperate gasps for him to slow down.

With a few expert flicks of his tongue along your clit, you quickly managed to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a loud groan that almost caught you by surprise. Simon’s eyes looked up at yours and you could feel his chuckle vibrate against your sex. He was having way too much fun trying to get you caught just to prove a point.

Even as you desperately tried not to make a sound, you found the hand that wasn’t pressed to your mouth was wrapped in Simon’s hair, keeping him in place as his tongue sent those familiar pangs of need over your nerves. You needed to come, and you wanted him to hurry and bring you the ecstasy you desperately desired.

Just as you were about to feel that familiar release, you were pulled back to reality as Simon pushed himself up and away from your grasping limbs. He gave you a smug expression as he looked at how you groaned into your hand and glared up at him. Before you could even register the action, he had wrenched your hands away from you and held them over your head.

He watched you struggle for a moment and chuckled darkly. “What’s the matter baby, got something to say?” he asked.

You struggled to keep your breathing from sounding like a plea for him. You bit down on your lip as Simon gyrated his hips against yours, his growing hardness straining against the fabric of his pants. “Please Simon,” you managed to squeak out. “Please fuck me!” It had come out a little louder than you wanted it to, but you didn’t care, you needed to feel him inside you.

Pleased by your response, Simon kept both of your hands still with one of his as he used the other to unbuckle and kick off his pants. He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly pushed his way inside, savoring the pleasure of your tight walls enveloping him completely.

There was no way for you to cover your mouth as he bottomed out, leaving you to try your damndest to bite your lip and suppress the moans that threatened to escape. But as he began to thrust you started to realize what a tall order that was. Just the feeling of him inside you as his free hand roamed your curves was becoming too much to bear.

Just as you were about to sneak just one moan out, you heard the sound of voices approaching the Jeep. Your eyes widened as you stared up at Simon, who had momentarily stopped himself from continuing. You couldn’t recognize them, but your worry was that the crew forgot something in the Jeep and needed it, and would inevitably catch you and Simon in the act when they opened the door.

As the voices moved closer to the side of the vehicle, Simon gave you a devilish wink. Your heart was beating in your throat as you tried to make it clear in your facial expressions that he’d better not try, not that it ever worked. This time was not different either, as he pulled out just enough before driving himself back into you.

You clamped your mouth shut as best as you could, but you could already hear soft moans breaking their way through. Even with the threat of being caught, your body was desperate for more, for him to continue this pleasurable onslaught on your body. He seemed to sense it too, as his thrusts became faster and his fingers had begun to knead and paw at your breasts, sending your brain into overdrive.

At this point, you weren’t even sure if the men had passed the Jeep, but you couldn’t help but moan his name in that high pitched way you usually did when you were close. Simon noticed and released your hands so that you could pull him down to you. As your mind started to blank, you held his mouth to yours and practically screamed into his lips as your body tensed and trembled against his. He continued to thrust into you at an erratic pace as he neared his end. It wasn’t long before he pulled himself from you, his mouth hung open in in  silent moan as he pressed his forehead against yours as he spilled his release down your thigh.

The two of you lay in a tangled entwinement of limbs for a short while, enjoying the closeness of each other. You sighed into the crook of his neck, your fingers tracing lazily over the muscles in his back. Simon only shifted to sit up when you squirmed to try to find a better position under his heavy body.

Simon looked down at you for a moment, just enjoying the sight of you. Finally he said, “So I guess I win the bet.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes as you looked up at him. “You cheated. You caught me off guard is all.”

“Sure,” Simon said, winking at you.

You sat still for a moment before asking, “Were those guys still around when I…?”

“Not sure,” Simon shrugged as he peeked out the window. “Just be glad Negan wasn’t here. He’d never let you hear the end of it.”

You snorted and sat up to press a kiss to his lips, his arms wrapped around you tenderly like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down just a few minutes prior.

Seeing as how I don’t have a full tag list for Simon, I’m only tagging mutuals and those that have requested to be tagged in everything I post. Let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my fics! <3

@superprincesspea  @vizhi0n @ladylorelitany @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @squid-from-mirkwood @superwholoki @the-angle-of-depression @bulletscrossbowpie

[superprincesspea]

Knock, Chapter 3

On a hot day you only wanna do one thing. 

Simon/You, Smut, Angst, Unprotected Sex

Words: 2228

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

Beads of sweat collect between your breasts as you trudge along, fantasising about ice chinking in a full glass and what you wouldn’t give for one of those mini fans they sell at airports. You ran out of water over an hour ago, you’ve been walking through thick undergrowth for almost two and you'd be damned if you could remember the last time you had the luxury of ice.

You stop, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead and trying to keep yourself upright. Your rifle was heavy when you picked it up this morning but with humidity choking your every breath it’s starting to feel like the weight might actually drag you into the realms of hell if weren’t already there.

The only thing keeping you going is Simon and it's not because you like the way his shirt’s pasted to his back and that every step he takes has the fabric moulding to the flex of his muscles. It’s because you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence that’s festered between you. You didn’t want to be the one that was weak. It was stubbornness that had kept your lips sealed but now you're not sure if you can take another step if it isn’t a step towards home and you’re not willing to kill yourself for the sake of pride.

“We should go back,” you say, forcing the words from your lips and breaking the silence.

Simon turns, biting back a smile as he looks you up and down. The sigh he makes as he slumps against a tree tells you he’s glad for the rest and you wonder why you’ve both spent the morning killing yourselves in the heat. Except you kind of know the reason for that. It’s not just this morning you haven’t spoken. You haven’t spoken since your last ‘encounter’ and maybe that wasn’t the most adult way to handle things but there it was.

“I’ve been busting my ass all morning waiting for you to actually say something,” he says and your heart almost stops.

“I didn’t ask you not to talk to me,” you retort.

“But you’ve been avoiding me.”

You laugh, avoiding eye contact, “I’ve got better things to do than spending my time trying to avoid you, why would I do that?”

“Because you kinda like me,” his voice playful. Your head whips around to look at him, your cheeks filling with added heat as you plan on denying everything.

“I kinda like you too,” he adds before you can say anything, the smile on his face widening, “I kinda liked you even before I-”

“Simon-” you hold up your hand, “this, isn’t happening. We’re not talking about this, lets just go back and…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say and with every word he’s stepping closer, so close that suddenly his hands are sliding around your waist and the smell of his skin has you forgetting you were even trying to make some sort of point.

You wait for him to say something or even better, kiss you but his hands fall from your waist, his head cocks to the side and before you know it he’s hurrying through the trees on long legs, leaving you alone in the clearing. You breath out a frustrated breath, the anticipation of a kiss still on your lips as you chase him, stumbling to keep up and colliding into the hard planes of his back when he finally stops.

“Jesus Simon, what the hell’s wrong with you?” you hiss, annoyed at how much you wanted him to kiss you.

He doesn’t answer, he just laughs and you feel the coolness of water before you see it, before you even realise what caught his attention. The sound. The splash of a waterfall as it hits the surface of a pool.

Together you peer over the embankment, a smile inching across your lips and like the rest of the morning neither of you say a word. Your rifle hits the dirt, you fingers eager to pull open the buttons of your shirt as you both begin tearing off your clothes like it's a race for the finish. Simon’s much faster. His clothes are strewn across the forest floor before he steps back, giving himself a run up then bounding for the water without a single stitch of clothing to cover what's swinging between his legs.

You’re heart has forgotten how the beat, your hands have forgotten what they were doing. All you can do is watch, captivated by the sight of him, strong and lean, swan diving into the pool and barely making a splash.

When he surfaces, water is running rivulets over his face, beads catching in his moustache and as he looks up to you he begins grinning like a kid with his daddy’s playboy. That’s when you remember that most of your clothes are at your feet leaving you standing in nothing but a bra and panties for your one man audience.

“Are you coming in or are you just gonna stand like that all day, not that I’m complaining or anything. Stand like that all you want,” he teases, his hands wading through the water, most of his body blurred from your prying eyes.

You step back to where he can’t see you, a buzz of nerves fizzing around your stomach. You could pull your clothes back on and wait at the top, you could even leave him but you don’t, you unhook your bra and do what you seem to do best when you’re with Simon, stip off your clothes and give into impulse. The last thing you remove is your hair tie, guiding it along your pony and shaking out your hair until you’re standing bare and free like a wild animal in the middle of the wilderness.

“You still there?” he calls and you chuckle under your breath, making sure you have a big enough run before charging forward and doing the only thing you know how, cannonball.

You land with a colossal splash, plunging under the water and finding the ultimate relief from the humidity before bobbing back to the surface to the sound of Simon’s laughter.

“That feel good?” he says, splashing you as he shakes off all the water you’ve soaked him with.

You don’t answer, the smile on your face is answer enough. It feels amazing.

You tread water, coyly bobbing around like you’re not completely naked with Simon but he isn’t interested in playing more games. He dives towards you sliding his hands around your body, his fingers splaying across your stomach as he pulls you towards him. You feel his erection, hard and bare pressing against your thigh, letting you know how much he wants you and what he plans to do with you.   

“You know this is right,” he whispers, his hands moving to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before his thumbs stroke across your nipples with just the right amount of pressure. You gasp, sinking deeper into the water and drowning in the sensation that tingles between your thighs.

Simon turns you to face him, sliding his hands to the backs of your legs and pulling them around his waist. The weight of your body is supported by the water, leaving his hands free to caress your skin, one glides along your spine as she other buries into your hair, pulling your lips to his. He holds you tight as he kisses you, his lips possessing yours like he more than ‘kinda likes’ you and despite trying to reject him you meet his passion with your own.

When you feel his cock pressing for entry you grind against it, desperate to feel more of him, arousal soaking into the water. Simon fills you in one long motion, sliding all the way in, his mouth panting against your neck as your head falls back, you body surrendering to the moment. Having him inside you feels as good as you imagined it would, better even, its been a long time since you’d been with a man and you want him to remind you of what it feels like to be fucked so hard you can barely breath.

“Simon,” you whimper and he begins to move, sliding in and out, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep your body wrapped around his.

“Jesus baby,” he moans, losing himself as he greedily fills your body with his cock, his hands exploring, sliding over your skin as he struggles to fuck you and touch you at the same time.

With a grunt he begins carrying you towards the bank and when the water is shallow enough he settles you into the mud before he falls between your legs and sinks inside you again. Now his thrust are harder, more certain as his moustache chases the kisses he peppers along your neck and you relish every moment of it.

You run your hands along his back, guiding his motion as your hips meet his stroke for stroke, the familiar knot tightening. You want the feeling to last for longer but you know you can’t stop what is already starting to bubble over. “Keep going,” you beg, urging him faster and faster until your orgasm bursts free, waves of pleasure washing over you as your pussy squeezes tight around his cock, your body milking Simon’s orgasm with your name groaning from his lips.

He rocks against you as you ride out the aftershocks, both of you lapping up the breathless feeling’s that are shuddering along your bodies. He kisses the tip of your nose, his softened cock slipping out, leaving you feeling stretched and perfectly sated. You sigh, not even caring that you’re lying in the mud as you stretch your arms above your head, the humidity already heating your skin.

It's not until Simon rolls off you that the proof of his climax begins dripping down your thigh. He lies on his back, pulling you into the crook of his arm just as your stomach drops with realization. He came inside you. You sit bolt upright, shoving him away with one hard push as if it will make a difference to what has already been done.

Simon’s eyes spring open, “Jesus! You have a real interesting way of treating a man after he makes you moan his name like you were having a damn good time. You enjoyed it and so did I,” his fingers tiptoe along your leg, bringing you closer, “I see no reason why we shouldn’t do this more, and in my bed, even if you are ten shades of goddamn crazy.” He kisses your shoulder, “you’re still goddamn cute.”

You bat his advances away, your heart thumping in your chest, ”stop. We need to get back.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” When you try to stand up he stops you, “you’re not walking away from me this time, baby. You wanted this, don’t pretend you didn’t and don’t make me feel like a fucking asshole.”

A sensible person would explain what was wrong, you say, “just fuck off, Simon!”

His face falls and you use the opportunity to stand.

“You’re a goddamn lunatic, do you realise that?” he shouts, losing his cool like he almost never does.

“Then fucking leave me alone,” you snap, annoyed that you were so careless and annoyed that Simon isn’t the one who has to deal with the potential consequences. How could you be so stupid? This was exactly why you didn’t want to get involved with a man.

You throw yourself back in the water, struggling to swim across to the side where your clothes are as panic fires around your body. It was all so sexy when you jumped in but now you’re sliding on the wet grass as you try to climb onto the bank and you’re feeling anything but sexy. Your shin scrapes against a rock just as Simon shouts, “you can’t get up that way, you’re gonna hurt yourself! Jesus Christ, if you’re gonna run away at least don’t kill yourself!”

His warnings only make you more committed to your efforts as you drag yourself to the top with sheer determination. Your hands are shaking as you redress and by the time you’re buttoning up your jeans he’s wrapping his fingers around your wrist and turning you to face him.

His face is etched with concern, his thumb brushes against your palm, “am I missing something here? I thought we were-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Simon! Just put some fucking clothes on and leave me alone!” You spit, flinging your arms to the sides to get him away from you before you grab your rifle and begin storming towards home.

“You’re going the wrong way, sweetheart!” he calls after you and you stop, looking at him just enough for him to point you in the right direction but he doesn’t. He looks away from you as he pulls on his clothes, not bothering to put his shirt back on before he starts marching through the trees, barely giving you opportunity to keep up with him as your stomach churns with the possibility that you might end up with a permanent reminder of this day. A permanent reminder that Simon kinda likes you and you kinda like him.

Thank you for reading! Thanks to the lovely @heartfulloffandoms for the gif. I haven’t planned this story out so let me know if you want more and let me know what you would like to happen next.

Tagging my forevers:

@strangersangel9​ //​ @ladylorelitany​ //​ @heartfulloffandoms​ //​ @robert-d-j-bernthal //​​ @isayweallgetdrunk //​​ @ayodaddydom​​ // @87dare2dream​​ // @negans-dirty-girl //​​ @ali-pennell​​ // @cherieann-2001​​ // @myheart4ever47​ //​ @kellyn1604​ //​ @melodicdolls​ //​ @bamby0304​ // @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash​ // @vizhi0n​ // @smuttwd​ // @magikat409 // @lucifers-trash-stash​ // @starshinesupergirl // @kitcat44 // @wadeyourebarelyalive​ // @texasgal2222​ // @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers​ // @female-x​ // @daintyunicorn //​ @ofdragonsanddreams16​ // @grab-my-boner​ // @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues //​ @asshatry //​ @backseat-negan // ​@supererogatoryblog //​ @megan-monroe​ // @lucianorsini // @negandaddyjdm​ //

Let me know if you want adding or removing from my list! 

[melodicdolls]

A is for: Attagirl

Notes: This is my submission for the ABC’s of Simon Challenge. I feel so terrible that it’s being submitted the last day, but with a lot of medical issues going on in my life, it was difficult to find the time to sit down and actually write. BUT! Ideas for this have been floating in my brain since I took this challenge on, and man, I’m so happy I was able to get it done. It really, really kick-started my muse again. <3 

For now this is a one-shot, but I might continue it in the future!

Tagging: @simons-thirst-squad

Warnings: Language

Characters: Simon x female OFC 

Rating: SFW (few mentions of innuendos, sexual tension and what not, but nothing explicit)

Word count: 2,445

Judging by the scowls upon the faces of the Saviors as they come rolling through the gates, I guess that the little trip to Alexandria hadn’t gone well.

 It comes as no surprise, really, when we are all summoned to the courtyard with our fearless leader glowering from above, declaring with his usual bravado that we are going to war. Negan is, as usual, stunning; he’s tall and lean and so damn commanding, and yet for some reason, I always find my eyes straying from him, wandering instead to one particular Second-in-Command that is never terribly far.

 Simon looks irritated, hands dangling in front of his thighs, thumbs looped through the belt holes of his jeans as he stands just behind Negan, who is now ordering everyone who is capable and willing to begin training to fight. To win. To demolish Alexandria.

 One of my hands strays to the gun at my belt absently as my gaze continues to flicker from Negan (trying to listen, I swear) to Simon (who, for some reason, makes listening really fucking difficult). I’ve been with the Saviors for what must be close to a year now, keeping my head down, doing my work. Kitchen duty had been a nightmare, at first, until at last someone had seen my skills on the firing range and promoted me to gate patrol. It’s nice, I’ve always thought, being able to zip myself into my warmest jacket on cool nights, with the crisp air in my lungs and the moon high above me, the weight of my gun in my holster comforting and familiar.

 Usually, night patrols were peaceful, uneventful. Just how I liked them. Which is why I was surprised to find that we’d had an intruder from Alexandria several nights ago; Negan had been furious, of course, in that strange way of his. I’d only been glad that it had been my night off. I wasn’t fond of the idea of meeting the iron, like Carson. Like Dwight.

It takes me a moment, to drag myself out of my thoughts long enough to realize we’ve all been dismissed. I’m standing there like an idiot while everyone moves and parts around me, and my gaze flickers up towards the balcony, praying Negan hasn’t seen.

 He hasn’t, too busy speaking with Dwight, but someone else has. My gaze meets Simon’s for a breath, for a second, and I see his brows raise, arms folding over his muscular chest as he studies me. Shit.

 I glance away quickly, trying to make myself look busy as I slip into the crowd of moving people. Many of them are returning to their duties, but a few are breaking off towards the armory, and I pause for a moment before I spot a familiar face in the fray.

 “Owen,” I call, and I move to stride beside him just as he turns to me, a lock of dark blond hair falling messily into his eyes. I beam, linking one of my arms through his, though the height difference makes it difficult – as always. Tiny, but fierce, I remind myself as I glance up at him. “Why are we all going to the armory?”

 “Are you trying to sweet-talk me because you weren’t listening?” He accuses, and I frown as if deeply offended.

 “Of course not.”

 “Liar. Sometimes I wonder what’s in that pretty little head of yours, for you to always be so far away.” He quirks a brow at me, but doesn’t press, thankfully. Owen and I have been fast friends from the moment we arrived at the Sanctuary, only days apart. He has found happiness – a wife, a child, a role. And he deserves it. “Anyways, we’re going to train – those of us who want to help the Saviors in the war. Guns, knives, hand-to-hand. Whatever we think we need.”

 I nod as I lift a hand to idly toy with one of the longer strands of my hair, letting him lead me towards the sprawling, guarded building – and the stretch of flat land for training that unfurls beyond. There are already men and woman lining up with firearms near the targets to the right, and others playfully shit-talking each other in preparation for closer brawls to the left. I’m damn good with a gun, decent with a knife, but when it comes to scrimmaging, well…

 I pause, letting my arm slip from Owen’s as he goes to decide on a knife to practice with. I want to help the Sanctuary, of course, in any way that I can. It is my home, and if there is a threat to it, that’s something I cannot tolerate. As much as I wish that I could rely solely upon weapons during conflict, I know that life isn’t fair, and it doesn’t always work that way. There’s a good possibility that I may find myself disarmed, or too close to an assailant, and my hands will be my only ammunition. And so with a little sigh, I begin to unbuckle my holster, relieving myself of my gun and knives.

 There’s a group gathered to the left, attempting to pair up for sparring while armed Saviors overlook the training yard. It’s them that I approach, and they shift to welcome me into the fray, several of their faces familiar as they nod at me. In the end, it’s a woman similar in sizing to me named Ashley that I pair up with, the two of us breaking away from the group to a large, flat portion of the field.

 We’re awkward, at first, circling each other and trying not to laugh. But she makes the first move, and then the amusement fades as she flies at me in a flurry of swift fists and movements, leaving me dancing away from her again and again, clumsily blocking a punch here, narrowly keeping my balance after a kick there. It takes a while, but eventually I find my stride, and then I’m moving in tandem with her like some kind of violent dance, both of us bruised and tired but persistent, unwilling to stop.

 Until a low whistle makes the both of us freeze, and I whirl to find Simon watching from just beyond our reach, an amused grin stretching beneath his familiar mustache. My traitorous body gives a gleeful little jolt as I straighten, hands lifting to tuck my hair behind my ears.

 “Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he drawls, sounding not-very-sorry at all, “but I couldn’t resist. You do know that the point of all of this is to…ya know, better your skills? Not match up with someone you’re confident that you can take. You think everyone in those godforsaken communities are gonna be dainty little girls?”

 Ashley is silent, but I can’t help but huff a little sigh that, unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by Simon. His eyes are dark and intense when they settle on me beneath his heavy brows, and I don’t bother to hold his gaze; it would be a challenge to. Behind me, Ashley has siddled away to find someone else to spar with, and I turn to do the same. But then a broad hand wraps around the bare skin of my arm not covered by my sleeves, the warmth of it sending a spark through my senses, making me freeze. All except for my head, which swivels towards Simon, who has stepped closer. He towers over me now, all muscled lethality, and his smile is disarming despite the way his gaze has darkened further.

 “Come on, now, sweetheart, don’t be shy,” he tells me in that ever-cheerful voice of his, the happy tone that never fades, even when he’s furious, even when he’s killing. “Spar with me. Unless you’re…afraid?”

 Afraid. That’s the word that makes me snort, makes me pivot towards him as I slip out of his grasp – no matter how much I strangely don’t want to. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

 His grin only widens at that, and I watch with stuttering breaths as he slips out of his leather jacket, his button-down riding up a tiny fraction when he does to reveal a slip of skin, a thatch of hair leading suggestively towards the button of his jeans. I rip my gaze back up to meet his when he discards his jacket on the ground, hoping he hasn’t noticed, but he has.

 Of course he has. I’m beginning to think the man doesn’t miss anything.

 Before I can ready myself, before I can even fucking blink, he’s moving, lunging towards me with a speed that’s entirely unfair for a man of his size. I dart away, narrowly avoiding his hands as I whirl, my own palms striking out quickly, aiming for his stomach. If I can wind him for just a second, it might be enough, but the moment I dart in close enough, he extends a leg that hooks behind my ankles, and the world tilts around me.

 I land flat on my ass with an undignified squeak, blinking up at him as he stands over me, staring down. And then the bastard laughs.

 “Don’t get cocky,” he tells me, extending a hand to help me up. Begrudgingly I take it, letting him haul me to my feet with ease, his biceps flexing and relaxing as he does so. “That’s my job. Again.”

 Again, I try to lunge for him. Again, I end up on the ground. The process repeats itself over and over, and my frustration must be beginning to show by the fifth round, because he pauses and holds up his hands as if to calm me.

 “You shouldn’t be focusing on coming at me right off the damn bat, honey,” he tells me, and do I imagine the way his voice dips lower on the last word? “When you’re struggling against someone bigger than you, you need to use your own advantages. Your size. Your speed. You need to stay out of my reach, wear me down, wait until I’m tired. Then…then, you go in for the kill.”

 I consider this with a little nod, but for a moment, all of my thoughts go completely south as he moves to stand behind me, his hands moving to my waist. His palms are warm and his grip tight as he shifts and adjusts me until I’m in a stance he deems appropriate, but all I can think about is the way he smells – like earth and musk and something…spicy. Cinnamon?

 His hands dip lower to my thighs, and my breath catches as he slowly positions them, as well – too slowly. Is the bastard doing this on purpose? I want to step away, to give myself a moment to breathe, but I can’t. Not when my back is pressed against him, when his arms are wrapped around me.

 What the hell is wrong with you? This is Simon. The Simon. Get a grip.

 Easier said than done.

 “Legs apart,” he murmurs in my ear. “Further.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice, and my heart almost stops when he says, “I know you must be more…flexible than that.”

 Bastard.

 Finally he moves away, though his pace seems reluctant, slow. When he circles around to stand in front of me again, his eyes are half-lidded and there’s this damning smirk on his face that makes me want to slap him, or kiss him, or maybe both.

 But then he’s moving – and this time, I see it. The way he tenses a moment before he lunges. The little spring in his step that indicates where he’s going to go. I dart backwards, reeling in my thoughts, forcing them to focus. I’m driven by the need to impress him, to beat him, and for a while, I evade his movements, whirling around him, leaving him to try to catch me. It’s a game of cat and mouse, the hunter and the hunted, and I revel in the way he always almost catches me. I’m sweating and breathless, but I push myself, and when I see him falter for the briefest moment, I lunge.

 My fist catches him in the gut and the air leaves him in a great whoosh as he bends slightly at the waist, bringing his face closer to mine. I know I should take the advantage, aim a punch at his nose, or his mouth, but I don’t.

 I do something stupid. I dart in and plant a kiss directly on his lips.

 He’s startled, still winded, and for a moment he stops. But then his hands are on my waist again, and his lips are coaxing mine into action. All thoughts of the fight are gone, vanished like smoke. I don’t even think about the people that surround us. Instead, all I can think about is the way his mustache tickles my skin, the way he tastes, and how I can definitely feel his own reaction to my body, the evidence against my stomach as he tugs me closer to him.

 He breaks away after a moment, and his gaze meets mine.

 He lets go of my waist at the exact moment that he grins. My heart gives a little alarmed jolt, but I’m too slow to move away as his legs casually sweeps out again. This time, I land entirely on my back, winded, eyes wide as I stare up at the sun.

 “That was a nice tactic, sweetheart” he says as he looms over me, his face suddenly the only thing I can see. He’s breathing hard, and for a moment he simply stares at me, his eyes tracing the way my hair halos around my head, my own heaving chest, my sprawled limbs. “But I hope you don’t plan to use that on every poor bastard that gets in your way.”

 He extends his hand again, and I grin as I reach for it, my fingers entwining with his. But before he can tug me to my feet, I abruptly yank him towards me, rolling out of the way as he loses his balance and promptly smashes to the ground beside me.

 He’s stunned as I begin to laugh, rolling onto my side and propping my head on my fist, my eyebrows raised as I gaze at him expectantly. “No,” I say. “Just on you.”

 His laughter is booming and abrupt, drawing the gaze of others, but I can’t be bothered to care. Not when he’s looking at me with amusement in his eyes, clearly impressed as he says, “Attagirl. You’re a damn quick learner.”

 “There are other things,” I say loftily, “that I’m sure you could teach me. Sweetheart.”