#actor’s mask talks to Simon! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writerpetals · 1 year

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the ghost and the flower | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

a/n: so this story is inspired by Simon “Ghost” Riley, but it’s not ACTUALLY him obviously because I write optional main character stories so you can picture anyone, and this plot wouldn’t make sense for his character anyway (but i’m the writer i make the rules lol). It’s easy to picture him if you want, but you can picture someone else, too. Just keep note this story is about a big, strong special ops soldier with a monster dick (because I wanted to write about a monster dick) so yeah :’)

w: enemies to lovers, they hate each other and fight a lot, minor primal play kink, major mask kink LOL, a little bit of military/special ops talk (i don’t know shit about military rankings but i did my best hehe), mention of guns and knives, controlling mmc, a little possessive, a little jealousy, unprotected sex, alcohol and being under the influence, lots of dirty things done in a mask and gloves... oh and this story is 20k words lol

[. playlist for story that helped me write .]

“I want you to know how much I hate this.” Your eyes narrow as you stare down your father’s expression, serious as ever, hoping he’s joking when he says the military brute standing next to you is in charge of you until further notice. Your father, the commander, remains stoic behind his office desk. “This has got to be a joke…”

You side eye your supposed bodyguard as he towers over you. He doesn’t look your way or even pretend to care about the situation. Not like it would matter considering you can’t even see his face or body in the protective gear he adorns. A balaclava mask covers everything on his face but his eyes, a white painted skull covering most of the fabric. The hood over his head hides his hair and ears, the rest of him covered by all black tactical equipment, but it doesn’t hide the fact that he's definitely strong, and big, and a little scary.

“No joke, sweetheart,” your father sighs, and you turn your attention back to him. “You know with my line of work and the investigations I do things can get risky for you. This is my only choice until we wrap up this case. Now that’s all I’m going to say about it. The lieutenant here is going to keep you out of harm’s way. That’s all.”

“Ugh,” you stomp your foot and huff. “And with my line of work, I have to travel all over the world at a moment’s notice so tell me how I can do that with this…”

You turn to the intimidating Lieutenant next to you, finally seeing his eyes peer down at you. He says not a word.

“...man hovering over me?” His cheek puffs out a little, as if he’s smirking under that creepy skull mask of his. You don’t have time to think anything of it. Not with the rage coursing through you. You’ve worked so hard to become the pop artist you are today. You’ve just released one of the best selling records in your country. You have a tour to plan, TV shows to appear on, interviews, fan meetings. Not to mention rehearsals and vocal practice. You can’t hide away just because your father decided to make his career out of taking down the worst criminals in the world. “I don’t need protection. I need to make music and meet with my fans. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”

"Your little music thing can wait, alright?" Your father dismisses you like he always has. You know he's never cared much for your music, too busy catching the bad guys. He's never been to a concert because he's always in another country. Maybe he's never even listened to a song you wrote, but he definitely makes time to scoff at the outfits you've planned out or the current actor or singer you're having a night out with.

"My little music thing?" His words cut you deep even though you should be used to it by now.

“Commander….” The brute finally speaks, his deep voice taking you by surprise at your attention jerks toward him. “Am I really suited for this? No disrespect, but aren’t I a little… overqualified to be some pop star’s bodyguard?”

“Ugh!” Your eyes narrow, but neither man pays you any attention. "He doesn't even want to be doing this! Can't I just hire a team like a normal celebrity?" You grow more offended by the second. Heat practically radiates off your body at the two of them disregarding you.

“You know why you’re in this position Lieutenant.” Your father’s voice grows stern, disappointed even. He pays no mind to your offer of hiring your own bodyguards. At least this way you would have more control. “Allow me to remind you of the last mission you went off schedule for just because of that damn temper of yours.”

“I had a hunch.”

“You have anger inside you and you needed someone to take it out on.” Your father slams his fist on his desk, rattling the pens and causing a picture of you when you were younger to fall to the side. You jump back, but the soldier next to you doesn't move an inch. Maybe he's used to your father's outbursts. “You risked everyone on your team. So now this is your task until further notice. Keep my daughter safe. No one lays a hand on her. She will be under your strict supervision. Got it?”

It takes a full ten seconds before another word is spoken. You see the Lieutenant's jaw tighten under the mask. Then the tension leaves his body. “Affirmative, commander.”

***

The reality still hasn't sunk in yet on the way to your place. Your father insisted his duties begin immediately. Now he steers a borrowed SUV with the windows blacked out for extra protection after putting your address into the GPS. Clearly the soldier has done his research on you. Maybe he was only at the meeting with your father to try to convince him this is a terrible idea. You wish he would have tried harder. You don't need protection. You need to live your life. How can you do that with this stranger watching you at all times?

"What's with the mask?" You question while in the passenger seat scrolling through your phone. "What happened at your last mission? Why did you freak out?" You don't want to sound too interested in him, but you're annoyed at the fact you have to even be near him. You don't know him, can't even see his face. All you know he's a big, strong soldier with anger issues. Did your father really think this through?

"That's classified." His short reply in a deep, yet aggravated and cold tone makes you roll your eyes.

"Classified?" You set your phone down in your lap and shake your head. "What is? The mask thing or the mission thing?"

"Both." You grow more irritated every time he speaks.

"Do you always talk to women like this?" You narrow your eyes as you ask, looking at him finally. He keeps his focus on the road. If you weren't asking questions, he would probably forget you were there.

"You're not a woman to me, you're a mission," He says, sending a wave of anger through your body to fill your chest. "Best to remember that."

"So unbelievably charming," you retort with a huff. "I bet the ladies are lining up for a chance with you."

You want to get under his skin as much as he's getting under your own, but he doesn't so much as roll an eye or huff a breath. He doesn't care at all. Maybe he thinks if he stays quiet long enough you'll just disappear.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" You ask, turning in your seat to look, hoping he would at least glance your way. "Or is that not part of the mission?"

Finally his eyes meet your own for a split second. Then back to the road. It's clear he's not going to respond. It’s a long enough glance to see something deeper there. It’s not that he’s annoyed, or you’re getting under his skin. He looks faraway. Lost and lonely.

No, no, that's crazy. You’re not going to instantly feel sorry for him. Not after being forced into this situation.

This is going to be so fun, you think.

When the two of you arrive at the parking garage to your condo, he grabs a bag out of the back of the SUV while you grab your things upfront.

"Pack lightly, Lieutenant?" You tease with a bitter edge to your tone. You aren't sure why every second being around him makes you want to make every second of his miserable. Maybe to make him drop his mission and you altogether.

"I have what I need," is all he says as he reaches to close the back door. When he does, his leather jacket rises for you to see the gun in its holster at his waist.

"Wait, you can't bring that thing in my home!" You step closer, pointing at his waist.

"What?" He freezes, then looks down to where you're pointing and back up. "My gun or something else?"

If you were in any other situation you would appreciate a good dick joke, but it only makes you angry again. You’re aware he’s probably not even joking. He just wants to piss you off.

"The gun, obviously," you reply with a tightened jaw. "That's dangerous. What if it goes off? What if—"

"Trust me," He interrupts, stepping forward to where you have to look up to match his eyes, "I know what I'm doing. You don't have to worry about that, sweetheart."

For a split-second your breath becomes trapped in your throat. He's bigger than you realized earlier. He's hovering over you. He's calling you pet names you would normally find charming or cute. Coming from him it sounds like a promise and a threat. You can't explain the pressure in your chest or the shaking in your knees in the moment, so you blink a few times to rid yourself of any oncoming thoughts about what he just said.

"I don't trust you," you whisper. His eyes flinch for a moment. Is he actually surprised by that? How could you trust a stranger?

He says nothing, but he doesn't back down, so you do it for him and turn on your heel. Together the two of you make it up to your condo. You take your shoes off at the front door, looking down at his big, black boots hoping he will do the same. He doesn't make an attempt at all. You'll be mopping your floors in no time. Another thing to annoy you.

"Here's your room." You guide him toward the back of the condo, past the spacious kitchen and connecting living room, and even the guest bathroom to reach a smaller bedroom. There's only a full size bed on the far wall. A dresser you didn't want, but didn't want to get rid of, and a closet on the opposite wall. You didn't bother decorating or adding your personal touch when you just bought the place and haven't been home much considering your schedules. "Hopefully the bed isn't too small," you say, before turning to walk away, but you stop.

"Problem?" he asks, tossing his bag on the bed and not even bothering to look at you.

"Are you going to be with me all the time?"

He says yes without hesitation.

"My schedules? Meetings with my team?"

He turns around to look at you. "Yes."

"When I'm sleeping?" Your heart begins to race.

"If I need to."

"When I'm showering?" Warmth begins to swirl in your stomach.

Behind the balaclava, you notice his brow raise. "Are you asking or hoping?"

You narrow your eyes. "I, w… ugh!"

Good one, you think as you turn around and storm off. This is going to be a nightmare.

***

Having the soldier in your house is even more awkward than you imagined. He's always lurking around you, answering phone calls with code names and keywords you don't get, and flipping through folders of what you assume to be other cases while keeping his eyes on you. If you're in your music studio that was once a small office from the previous owners of the condo, he's sitting by the door while you scribble in your notebooks while sitting at a piano and recording voice memos of melodies you don't want to forget. You notice his eyes on you every time the sweet and soft humming fills the room. It's hard not to feel hot beneath his gaze. He's still so intimidating, but hopefully you've shown him you can stand up to him and refuse to be a helpless little girl that needs protecting. It’s all so ridiculous, anyway.

When you're on the phone with your assistant Marjorie, he keeps his ear trained on your words and eyes focused on you. You give him as many dirty looks as you can, but he doesn't seem fazed. It's clear he takes his mission seriously. Then the thought of you only being a mission gets to you and annoys you all over again. How could your father put you in this position? He’s never cared about it with his job before, but you quickly make the connection that the more your career takes off, the more eyes will be on you. Even those eyes of dangerous men that can link you to your father.

Still, you think it’s all so unnecessary. You’re a private person for the most part. How would dangerous men even know where to find you?

You roll your eyes and shake your head of useless thoughts, not wanting to be late for your date that night with Elijah. You’ve been seeing him for a few months casually, but lately have grown to really, really like him, and soon you know the tabloids will be buzzing with the rumors of the two of you being an item.

At least, that’s what he’s mentioned to you from time to time. He’s a music producer that landed a highly valued position at his father’s record label early on. Safe to say, he’s a big deal, and handsome as hell. You don’t care about how this could affect your career either way. You just enjoy being with him.

You put the finishing touches on your make-up and slip on your black dress before making your way to your front door to grab your purse and heels.

However, the Lieutenant is there in a flash right along with you. He’s staring down at you behind his mask, but you can see his brow raised.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes, actually,” you reply, not even bothering to look at him again while slipping your heels on. “I have a date. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“A date? You should have told me. I’d wear something more appropriate.”

You stop in an instant. There’s no way this man thinks he’s going to accompany you on a date like a parent. You turn to look at him, seeing him in a thin black t-shirt to match his cargo pants and boots, but now you notice one strong, tattooed arm folding across his chest with the other.

“Um, no! No way!” You shake your head and toss your hands in the air. “I don’t need protection while on a date. It’s personal and plus, Elijah will be there!” No, of course Elijah isn’t as big and scary as the Lieutenant, and obviously doesn’t have the combat training, but he would still protect you. You hope so, anyway.

“Who the fuck is Elijah? Any my mission—”

“Yeah, I know I’m just a mission to you, but you can’t possibly think I can show up to a date with someone like you and expect him to be okay with it.”

“Don’t give a fuck what he’s okay with. My job is to keep my eye on you. So either we’re going on this date with loverboy together, or you’re not going at all.” He steps closer, looking down at you as if to make his point more clear.

Heat burns inside of your chest, raging with your jaw clenched at how impossible this man was being. “I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t care what your mission is!”

“That may be so, sweetheart, but I will do my job whether you want me to or not.”

“Why? Because my father says so?” You narrow your eyes, stepping to him to show you aren’t afraid and you can take the challenge. “Are you really that much of a lapdog? My father says jump and you say how high? Is that what all you brainwashed stupid special ops soldiers do?”

He doesn’t say a word. You grow even more angry. You don’t even mean the things you tell him. You just want him to get as upset as he’s making you. There’s no way you can bring him to the date, and you don’t want to cancel on Elijah. He’s been out of town and you haven’t seen him in weeks. You certainly just can’t ask him to come here with the Lieutenant lurking in every corner of the room you’re in. What would he think? He’d certainly be jealous, knowing the Lieutenant is bigger, stronger, scarier… more intimating…

No, you tell yourself. What are you even thinking?

“Fine,” you whisper, clenching your jaw before finally tearing your gaze away. “I won’t go.”

You can’t believe your life has come to this…

***

“Sweetie, I have some bad news.”

Your assistant Marjorie unexpectedly shows up at your home the next day. She looks stressed. Her brown hair in messy curls around her face. The glasses on her eyes a little crooked. There’s bags under them, too. She’s clutching a folder full of papers to her chest.

“I’ve been working with the publicist since early this morning. Did, uh, something happen with Elijah?”

You frown as you let her in, stepping to the side and closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong?” Together, you make your way to your living room as she spreads the papers across the coffee table. Neither of you even noticed him sitting there, arms crossed, brow raised as he stares at the two of you. He looks over Marjorie and isn’t concerned in the slightest with her. Obviously she’s not a threat so he doesn’t even more, or make an attempt to speak.

However, the moment Marjorie spots him, she lets out a little shriek and jumps back, placing a hand on her chest. “Who—” She gives you a concerned look before she eyes the big guy out of the corner of her eye. “—is that?” Her voice trembles. It’s clear he’s intimidated her at first glance. You understand completely. If you weren’t so angry at your situation, you would feel the same.

“Sorry, I should have told you.” You place a hand on her arm to sit down on the couch with her. He still doesn’t speak even though it’s obvious to him she’s scared. “It… has to do with my father.”

That’s all that needs to be said. She knows your story. Knows you grew up around a commander that spent more of his life on work than spending time with his daughter, leaving you to be with nannies and play with maids. She knows all about the line of work he’s in, but you’ve always told her it doesn’t matter to you. It will never interfere with your dream… until now.

“I see,” is all she says. She gulps and smooths her hands over your skirt while straightening her back.

“What is the bad news, Marjorie? And what about Elijah?” You sneak a side glance at him while you ask. He seems more attentive now that your soon-to-be boyfriend’s name was mentioned.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, hon’.” She opens the folder with all the papers. “I’m sorry. I know you really liked him.”

You glance down at the mock-ups of soon-to-be published articles across the table. Articles showing pictures of Elijah out with someone else. Headlines saying you are old news to the famous producer. A quote describing how Elijah working with you won’t be in his future. He’s just not much of a fan of your music, anyway. The text plastered over the image of him with an arm around a model’s waist. The same model that is friends with pop stars more popular than you. Of course he was only thinking about a paycheck.

“I was working so hard to not get them published. They were demanding outrageous things of you in return to not run the story. They wanted to know more about your father and family history in an exclusive interview. I knew you couldn’t do that…”

“No…” Your heart sinks. A heaviness settles in its place. You really did like ELijah. He told you plenty of times how much he loves your music and wants to work with you on your next project. How quickly men change their mind when it benefits them.

You look over to the Lieutenant as Marjorie goes on about things you can do to make you look better in this situation. You don’t listen. You focus on his eyes reading the headlines before they rise to meet your own. You want to blame him and be angry at him, but your heart hurts too much in the moment for anything else.

It’s not really his fault, you realize. Elijah is clearly a snake and dates whoever helps his career. You would have found that out eventually.

“But don’t worry,” Marjorie interrupts your thoughts. “You still have the award nominations coming up. A tour to plan. Fan meetings and interviews. Don’t let this get you down, sweetie.”

“I guess so,” you reply, taking a deep breath and a slow exhale. Why do you feel like crying? He wasn’t even your boyfriend, yet. Though, it doesn’t feel good to be pushed aside so quickly. For once you would love to actually be important to someone…

“So, let’s talk tour…”

Marjorie pulls a tablet out of her bag and quickly skims through possible costume designs and sets for your upcoming tour. You’re barely paying attention. You try to look over all the glittery designs and expensive props your label wants to use. She tells you they’re looking for stadiums to book across the country, but you can hardly be excited about this being your biggest tour yet. You’re barely paying attention, hurt bubbling inside of you, mixing with anger as the realization you were cast aside sets in. How could he?

Your attention is quickly drawn to the other side of the room as the impossibly silent shadow of a Lieutenant finally makes a noise. He sighs… long and drawn out… like a ghost just always lurking until he wants himself to be heard.

“Are you bored?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “You know you don’t have to sit here, right? You can fuck right off somewhere else.” You speak with more venom in the words than you actually mean. Maybe you’re just redirecting your hurt and anger to someone that can take it, because he doesn’t care about you either.

“Oh, sorry, pop princess,” he remarks, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. Marjorie jerks her head up to look at him, eyes going wide. Your nostrils flare at his words. “Can’t help it I’m not into this little flowery, pretty music and glittery Barbie outfits with all the flowery shit on them.”

What he says makes you rage. You’ve never wanted to slap someone more. “Right, you’re into fighting and being a fucking dick.” Marjorie gasps next to you. You’ve never been so hateful around her. Of course she’s shocked, but you’re pissed. And heartbroken, but the dumb brute doesn’t need to know that. You can give it right back to him. “Maybe you just lack taste.”

His cheek thickens as if he’s smirking beneath the mask. “Trust me, little flower, you’re not my type.”

You huff, opening your mouth to speak some vicious retort, but Marjorie beats you to it.

“Your loss,” she says quietly, looking between the two of you, then down at her lap where the outfits are still on the screen. “She’s amazing, talented, and works so hard. Her… her fans adore her.” Her voice is still shaking, but she wants to stick up for you. The anger settles a little. You know Marjorie will always be on your side, and it makes the situation a little easier to handle.

Then suddenly his little nickname hits you like a ton of bricks. Little flower? Who does he think he is?

“Little flower?” You glare at him, trying not to let the words he says affect you. “Give me a break…”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to Marjorie, finally putting your focus on your work and nothing more. You don’t need men distracting you any longer. Your father never caring about your music and still thinking you’re a little girl. Elijah dumping you once he saw a better opportunity for his career. Now this moody, grouchy soldier saying your music is terrible. You don’t need any of it. You’ve worked too hard to let men like them get to you now.

“Show me that super sparkly out fits a few pages back, Marj.”

You won’t be hurt by any of them.

***

“You can wait in the car.”

You hop out of the SUV after he pulls up to your label’s office building. You have too many meetings with execs today, too many things to plan, too much to worry about and the last thing you need is him drawing attention or cutting in with his snarky remarks. This is too important to you to ruin by being distracted and angry.

He follows you just as quickly as you try to outpace him while walking into the building. The girl at the front desk smiles at you before dropping her expression the moment she lays eyes on him. See? Distracting. Annoying. In your way. You don’t need it.

“If I did that, flower, I’d be disregarding my mission, wouldn’t I?” he replies as you stand to wait for the elevator to take you up to the floor where the meetings will be held.

“Oh, like you did last time you went berserk commando and risked your mission to get us both in this situation?” You huff, and you swear you hear him growl beneath the mask. He doesn’t like when you bring up his mistakes. Not at all. You smile to yourself on the inside, until you realize he’s still calling you the dumb little nickname. “And what’s with calling me that? Relax.”

He growls again. Not even trying to hide it. “Trust me, little flower, you would be in this situation regardless, and you’d much rather me than some of the other guys I’ve been with in the field.” You step onto the elevator with him right behind you. You scoff at his response while you start to rise to the top floor.

“Oh, right,” you say, turning to him to glare for a few moments. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a glance in return. “Because you’re just so fun to be around.” You’re already in a bad moon. Funny how quickly your day can be ruined by him.

“That’s nice of you to say, flower.” The words rip right through you, sending you from annoyed to angry. It makes it even worse because now there's a hint of humor in his tone. He likes making you this angry. That pisses you off more.

“Sure, because you’re obviously so kind and sweet and caring and compassionate and totally not a pain in my ass,” you say through your teeth just as the elevator dings and the doors open. There stands Marjorie along with the men that are attending your meeting. They’re staring at the two of you. The Lieutenant looks straight ahead, not bothered at all. You’re still glaring at him, hoping to burn a hole straight through his thick skull.

Marjorie clears her throat. Your attention turns toward her, finally realizing the situation. He chuckles softly next to you.

God, do you wish you could disappear.

***

Award season comes around once a year, and this year is the biggest one for you yet. You eagerly wait by your phone for Marjorie to call to give you the news if you’ve been nominated or not, and when she calls to say you’ve been nominated in five categories at the most prestigious award show in your country, you can only scream into the receiver.

As you’re jumping up and down on your bed due to the huge news, screaming in Marjorie’s ear as she screams back due to being so happy your hard work is paying off, the Lieutenant rushes into your room. Suddenly, he grabs your body and pulls you to him, making you drop your phone in the process.

“What’s wrong?” he frantically asks. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yes,” you say, pushing him away and picking up your phone. “Marjorie, let me call you back.” Your voice is full of excitement as you hang up the phone. You can hardly contain yourself. Not even the big soldier can ruin your day today. Finally, the industry is taking note of all your success. Finally it’s all coming together for you.

“Are you sure? You screamed rather loud. I thought someone broke in.” While he speaks, he scans your body over, from head to toe, to make sure you aren’t lying. He even runs his gloves hands along your arms, genuinely looking concerned for your safety as he inspects.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you giggle, suddenly in such a good mood you don’t even want to fight or argue with him. “Sorry, I got some really great news. I need to call my father.” More than anything, you’ve always wanted to call him up with some great news or terrific achievement so he will finally take your career seriously. For so long, you’ve been waiting for this moment. You can hardly contain yourself as you click on your father’s contact to press dial.

The Lieutenant understands, nodding and taking a step back to fold his arms over his chest. He stays put in your bedroom, but you don’t even pay attention to him. You put the phone on speaker while you begin scrolling the news articles already talking about your nominations.

“Hello? Commander speaking.”

“Dad, it’s me,” you laugh, smiling wide to yourself. Of course he's only focusing on work, answering the phone without even looking to see who was calling.

“Everything okay?” He’s speaking in sharp, short words. Quick to get to the point.

“Yes! Everything is great, actually!”

“Good, good. Sweetheart, I’m really busy right now…”

“But dad—”

“Can we talk later?” There’s commotion on the other end, hearing shuffling and mumbled voices. He’s not paying attention to you at all.

“Dad, I got nominated for five awards today and I just—”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he interrupts. “I really have to get going. Talk soon, okay?”

“Dad—”

The phone hangs up. The excitement drains from your features. You drop your hands in your lap, staring down at his contact picture. Suddenly there’s a heaviness in your chest. It’s tight, gripping hold of your heart. What were you even happy about to begin with? You fight with yourself to keep the tears filling your lids from falling. Blinking, you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

“Five awards, eh?” Suddenly, his voice fills your ears, reminding you he’s still standing there. Great, now you have an audience once again to your heartbreak. Except this time, you have no fight in you at all.

“It’s stupid to care so much…”

“Don’t say that, little flower,” he says, earning your tear-filled eyes on him. “The only awards people like me ever get are ones when we’re already dead. It’s not stupid to be appreciated for working hard. Don’t count yourself short.”

His words take you by surprise. Raising your brows, you chuckle a tired sound and shrug. “Weren’t you just insulting my music?”

“Don’t be like that.” Suddenly, he steps toward you to take a seat on your bed next to you. His weight shifts the mattress. He’s so big next to you like this. “I didn’t really mean what I said, flower. And… I feel bad for saying it. I know you’re angry too about being in this situation. I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. Plus, I’ve seen the way you’ve handled those bosses in your meetings. You’re tough and you know what you want.”

At that, you release a genuine laugh. “Yeah, I hate being ran over. I want complete creative control. I have a vision, you know?”

“A sparkly one.”

Now you’re giggling. “Yes, that does include sparkles, sometimes.” He chuckles. Genuinely. Your heart feels a little warmer. The heaviness in your chest feels lighter. You realize he’s trying to make you feel better. You appreciate the gesture. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

“Oh, is that what I was doing?” He looks down at you, and you look up at him through your lashes. “I thought we just advanced to a new level of bickering and being annoyed with one another.”

You can’t help but to laugh. You realize he can be kind of sweet if he wants.

“I just want to be taken seriously.” You tell him with a sigh. “My father sees me as a little girl that needs protecting. Elijah saw me as an opportunity for his career. The execs at the label try to make up their mind for me until I stick up for myself. Hell, even you just see me as a mission.”

He blinks a few times, taking in your words. Then he sighs. “I didn’t mean that, either, flower.”

For the first time, you’re glad he’s there with you.

***

Even though you and him shared a sweet moment when you were hurt over your father’s dismissive attitude of you, it still irritates you when you can’t go out and do what you want. You don’t want to be careless, of course, but you just don’t see the need in being watching 24/7 like a hawk.

Especially when you got word Elijah will be attending a party, and you want to show up looking good enough to regret leaving. You have your skin tight, red dress already on, putting the finishing touches on your lipstick as you play in your mind the perfect scenario of him begging for you back. The dress cuts low into your cleavage, and rises high on your thighs. With some killer heels, he’ll be on the floor in no time.

If only there wasn’t a grumpy soldier in the way of you and the front door.

“I don’t care if you have a mission to do,” you tell him as he blocks your way, “this is important to me and I need you to get out of my way. I can’t be a prisoner forever.”

He looks you up and down, spending an extra second on your chest, before meeting your eyes. His gaze makes you hot in the moment, and now you’re unsure if it’s actually anger. “Clearly it’s important, but important or not, flower, I can’t let you out of my sight if you leave this house.” He folds his arms over his chest. “And you’re not a prisoner forever. You’re being guarded until it’s safe for you. That’s all.”

“Well, I feel like a grounded teenager.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your own arms over your chest with your heels in hand.

“Acting like it, too.”

“Fuck you.” Just when you thought the two of you were going to get along, too…

“If that’s what you want, flower.” Without warning, the big brute picks you up with ease and tosses your body over his shoulder.

“Hey, what—” You start kicking and punching his back, but he isn’t fazed at all. “Put me down!” You’re thrashing all over his shoulder, you’re not even paying attention to him bringing you to your bedroom. Without a word, he puts you down on the floor in the middle of the room before backing away.

“Want to act like a spoiled brat, you’ll get treated like it,” is all he says, stepping out of your room and closing the door behind him.

“I’m an adult!” you yell through the door. “A grown woman! I can do what I want!”

Clearly, you can’t. When you try to open the door, it doesn’t even budge an inch in your direction. But clearly he didn’t think this through. You still have your heels in your hand. You can just go out the escape ladder from your window. You sneakily tiptoe towards the window, pushing aside a few bottles of purfume that were resting on a dresser to budge the lock.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to hear you and catch on to what you’re attempting. He is a specially trained operator, after all. He bursts open the door just as you crack the window, barrelling over to you without thinking to grab you by the waist. You release a squeal when he practically tosses your body onto the bed.

Not thinking again, clearly, because now you have an exit through the bedroom door. You make an attempt to scurry across the satin sheets of your bed, but he’s close behind. Another scream echoes into the room as he grips your bare ankle, pulling you back across the bed with ease before you can even think straight. Your heels go flying across the room as he manhandles your body and pulls you all the way to him.

“An adult woman trying to sneak out of her bedroom window?” he asks, mocking you while pressing his body between your thighs, putting weight over you so you can’t escape.

“An adult woman shouldn’t need to,” you correct him. He grabs both wrists, pinning them above your head and pushing himself closer to you. You feel all of him against you. His broad chest pressing into yours heaving from trying to catch your breath. His hard stomach over your body. His hips parting your thighs. Something hard presses against your panties. A shiver races through your body, heat following to fill every inch of skin. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Is my little flower going to behave if I do?” His tone mocks you with the question. You stare into his eyes, the only part of him you can actually see. He stares right into your own, not backing down. You don’t want to back down, either. You're burning hot with rage at the control he’s placed you under. You want to fight him, hit him, yell and scream at him. But your body… your body loves how weak it feels beneath him. You hate it. Hate how much he’s affecting you in the moment. Warmth swells between your thighs. You tremble beneath him. You feel so betrayed by both him and yourself.

“No,” you finally reply, clenching your jaw, narrowing your eyes. If looks could kill…

“Then I can do this all night, flower.” His tone darkens as he draws his face closer. So much closer. The closest to him you’ve been. Your breath catches in your throat. “As long as it takes for you to be a good girl.”

Your eyelids flutter. God, why was his voice suddenly going straight between your thighs? You shudder, knowing you would find your panties wet if you were to look. You’re so hot beneath him. You can’t stand it.

You lick your lips and beg your hips not to roll against him. “Let me go,” you repeat.

He raises a brow beneath that damn mask of his. “Are you going to try to run from me again?”

You know there’s no use fighting him. He’s bigger, stronger, and tougher than you. He made that clear. You don’t want to give in to him. You want to tough this out just to see how long he can last, but you aren’t convinced your body will agree the longer you lay in this position with him.

“Getting all dolled up to go make a boy jealous, huh?” he begins to taunt you again, just to see you worked up. It’s what the two of you do best.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You push yourself against him, your hips bucking into his as you try to yank your hands away from his grip. He only presses into your harder, and you realize yes, he is definitely affected by the position the same way you are. He’s thick and hard and you feel it between your thighs. The fact has you burning up. His body wants you, too, even if his words are vicious.

“You deserve better than to chase some dickhead that can’t see what he has right in front of him.” If you weren’t so angry at him, you would almost be touched. All you see is red in the moment, however. You want to fight him. You want him to feel bad… if his cold heart even can.

“Like you would know,” you spit back. “I’m just a mission to you, remember?”

“I told you I didn’t mean that.”

“Really? You’re sure as hell acting like it.” You struggle again to get loose. He tightens his grip, leaning into your body so his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I have a mission to protect you, flower,” he begins, sending a chill down your spine as he speaks his dark, tempting words, “but believe me, if I didn’t, there’s not a single thing here I wouldn’t worship on you and I’d take nothing for granted. There’d be no mistake you belonged to me.”

With that, he finally releases your body from his hold. He stands straight, peering down at you as if his eyes are promising the things his words said. You quickly straighten out your dress over your thighs as you settle on your knees. For a moment, neither of you speak. Your breath is heavy. There’s tension in his body, tension filling the entire room.

You wait for his next move, not knowing what to do or say or even think. His words caught you off guard. You thought he hated you, and hated being around you. You were surely convinced you hated him in return, but with the way your body reacted, and now your heart drumming away in your chest over what he said, you aren’t sure. Did he really care about you? Did being so close to you have such an effect on him as well?

He says nothing, only turning toward your window to close and lock it in place, before walking toward your door. “Good night, little flower.” Before reaching the hall, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. “I trust you won’t be careless and try to sneak out again. I won’t let you off the hook so easily, next time.”

He leaves, and your body is hot all over again. His words which used to induce rage inside of you now begin to make you quiver. Could you just be taking them the wrong way? Does he really mean the hint of temptation you’re getting from each syllable?

You aren’t sure. All you can do is run to shut your bedroom door before he comes back to drive you crazy once again. Or before you do something stupid, like try to sneak out just to test him because you’re dying to see what he would actually do now. Your body begins to crave it, no matter how much you try to fight the feeling.

What started this all anyway? Finally you remember wanting to make Elijah jealous, but that seems so pointless now. Now all you can think about is what the big, strong Lieutenant would do if you disobeyed him. Something tells you he makes good on his promises, and your body aches at the thought.

Before you can let your thoughts become carried away, you take a hot shower to wash off your makeup and the mistakes you almost made. Maybe all you need is a good night’s sleep. You only hope you can stop thinking about how it felt having his body pressed against you.

***

After that night, you hate how quiet you are around him. Suddenly there’s tension, and not the rage-inducing kind you’ve grown used to. Anytime you look at him, you can’t help but to outline his muscles beneath the thin t-shirt, study his tattoos and veins along each arm, or wonder how good he is with his hands. He tries to ignore you stealing glances at him, not saying much to you, either. You decide it’s better than way. The other night was too risky. The two of you got too close, and it’s clear both of you were reacting in unfamiliar ways.

Later, Marjorie shows up with a team of a few people to bring a wardrobe for an event you’re scheduled to attend. A movie is premiering with your song as the main track on the soundtrack. You know you have to make an appearance, but lately you’re just not up for it, not wanting to explain why you have a masked man watching over your every move, as well as anyone that gets close to you.

“I don’t know, Marjorie,” you tell her, slipping on a glittery, purple dress with a low-cut V-neck and even lower cut in the back. The sleeves are long enough to reach your wrists, and you have to say it’s beautiful. You think you’ve found the one… if you wanted to actually attend. “I’m not up for premieres and parties.”

“Why not? Is it that scary man out there? Did he do something?” She lowers her glasses while narrowing her eyes. She gives an evil look toward the living room where you told him to wait after guiding the team to your bedroom.

“No,” you lie. It is because of him. And all the tension. And the fact that you don’t want anymore negative press about you. The breakup to a non-boyfriend was hard enough on your image. It’s all anyone wanted to talk about. Anything to get their quick clips and quotes for the news. Elijah absolutely embarrassed you.

Then you remember he will be at the event as well. You don’t want to face him now that you’ve had time to think about it. Trying to sneak out and make him jealous was stupid. He’s not worth it.

The grumpy brute was right about that.

“Then what’s the problem?” she asks, flipping through texts on your phone. “Oh, the designer needs to see you in a few photos and selfies if this is the dress you want to wear. Make sure to tag them on your pages.”

You sigh, leaving your bedroom to find where you left your phone to take a few “getting ready with me” selfies. Remembering you were reading more articles about your award nominations earlier while moping on the couch, you find it in the living room where he still sits, looking over documents in a folder spread over the coffee table.

“I feel overwhelmed lately, Marj.” You grab your phone from the couch next to him. “And I don’t know if I want this dress. It’s gorgeous but I don’t feel gorgeous in it.”

“You’re kidding!” she says, then surprisingly, turns to him to get his attention. “Tell her how good she looks!” As if she realizes her sudden bold behavior in talking to him, she withdraws behind you, pushing you closer so he can get a better look.

He scans over your body in the dress. His eyes linger over your chest for a moment, then travel to your hips, and finally your thighs. Then he makes his way back up, so slowly you’re almost dying inside. He’s not answering. Only taking in the sight of you in more sparkly, skin tight, revealing things.

“You look stunning, flower.” His voice is quiet, as if he only wanted you to hear his reply. It’s deep, too, another level of hidden emotions layered within the syllables and it makes your insides quiver.

From behind, Marjorie whispers, “he’s still calling you that?” Then she giggles, and you can’t help but to smile. Heat floods your cheeks. A few weeks ago you would have been annoyed, but now it seems so natural to hear the nickname.

“So, what event are we attending?” he asks, and you want to be annoyed that he will have to be with you, but somehow you can’t find yourself to be irritated. Maybe it’s better he’s there. He could intimidate anyone talking to you in case they want to pry about your relationship failures.

“A movie premiere tonight, then an after party. Are you wearing that?” You surprise him by not making a big deal of the situation. Looking over him, you realize his usual thin tees and military cargo pants with boots won’t cut it at this event. Regardless of his mask, he’ll stick out like a sore thumb.

“Want me to get dressed up for you, flower?” He raises a brow, knowing from his tone he’s smirking beneath the mask.

“Well, you have to be presentable if you’re going to attend with me.”

He nods, as if it’s another mission to him, quickly reaching for his phone to make a few calls. You can’t worry about what he’s doing, however, when you need to get into makeup and hair before the red carpet rolls out. Marjorie rushes you back to your room where the team starts with their brushes and blow dryers, getting you dressed in full glam within an hour and a half.

When you walk out of your room fully dolled up, you notice him waiting on you with a completely different outfit. Still dressed in all black, he adorns a turtleneck and slacks with his mask and boots. The sleeves are rolled up to show off his tattoos, and you’re sure he has weapons hidden somewhere on his body. Maybe those black, leather boots of his. Either way, you decide it’s not bad. You appreciate the attempt he’s made for you.

“You look nice, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a quiet voice. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat. You try to reason with yourself he’s just being nice, but the butterflies in your stomach wish for something more. For once, he’s actually being kind to you. It makes it so much harder to hate the situation you’re in.

“Are you ready to go?” you ask him as your assistant hands you your bag before helping with slipping on your matching heels.

He nods, holding out his arm for you to take. Smiling, you slip your hand around his bicep, resisting the urge to shudder from how hard his body is. It brings up memories from being so close to him a second before heat washes over your entire body.

How are you going to survive the night?

***

The movie premiere is less painful than you imagined. No one asks too many questions on the red carpet other than wanting to know who you were wearing that night. No one questions him, either, assuming he’s just another faceless bodyguard to the rich and famous. You’re thankful for that until you get to the afterparty. It’s not your scene, really, but you know you can make good connections with people in the industry. You mingle a bit with a few different crowds. Another pop artist here and there. Even some producers that worked on the soundtrack of the movie.

You feel a little more relaxed, even with the Lieutenant close by. He never gets in your way, and you appreciate the distance he’s giving you. Maybe it could have been like this the whole time, you think. After all, he just wanted to keep you safe. He’s not hovering over you, or making you uncomfortable. But you catch his eye every now and then. Knowing he’s close by actually comforts you.

The night carries on with you getting a few numbers in your phone with people you want to work with in the future. You make a few promises to get to the studio and record sometime soon, so happy you decided to come out.

Only until a familiar voice pulls your attention away from an intriguing conversation with another up and coming singer.

“What is it, Elijah?” You turn to face him, seeing the singer walk away from the corner of your eye. You hope she doesn’t think you’re rude. Maybe if you post the selfie with her you took, saying how sweet she was, she’ll forgive you.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he says, words slurring a little. He’s tipsy. He’s always more affectionate when he’s tipsy. “I miss you.”

You frown. “Miss me? Didn’t seem like it with your arm around a model.”

“Oh, that was nothing, baby!” He waves a hand in the air dismissively.

“And when you said you didn’t like my music that much? What was that? You talked pretty quickly to the reporters. Most people didn't even know of our relationship.”

“Tabloids being tabloids! You can’t trust them.” He laughs, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer. “Let me take you to grab a bite of food. We can catch up, talk this out, alright?”

You roll your eyes, ready to decline when a body presses into you from behind.

“It’s time to go,” the deep, raspy voice of the Lieutenant says. He’s speaking through his teeth. You nod your head, wanting to get away from Elijah and just go home. Your heels hurt and your social energy is completely spent for the night, anyway.

“I have to go, Elijah…”

You try to pull away from him, but Elijah tightens his grip on you. “Who’s this?” He grows defensive. As if he owns you. As if he didn’t break your heart just a few weeks ago.

“Elijah, let me go.”

“No, I want to know—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before the big soldier is stepping to him. “I would back up if I were you.”

“Are you really going to let this guy talk to me like that?” Elijah turns to you as you look between both men. The Lieutenant towers over Elijah, but he’s too tipsy to back down from a fight he obviously wouldn’t win.

“He’s in charge of me,” is all you say, and both men’s attention snap to you. “My safety, I mean. He’s in charge of my safety.” You gulp, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Elijah finally releases the grip he has on you. “Safety? Are you being stalked or something?”

Huffing, you turn to walk away from him. “If you ever cared to get to know me, Elijah, you would know why I need protection.” You can’t even believe you said the words. Never have you admitted that to anyone, but Elijah is pissing you off now. What did you ever see in this guy?

“Hey,” Elijah yells over the music, pride hurt over a sudden rejection he’s not used to. He reaches to grab your wrist, but before anyone can react, the Lieutenant lashes out to grip Elijah’s throat. It happens so fast, like a viper lashing out at prey.

“Touch her again, loverboy, and I promise you that hand will be wishing you hadn’t.”

You’re frozen seeing your almost ex-boyfriend get choked out, struggling to remove himself from such a strong grasp. Eventually, he’s released and you’re being shuffled out of the party before anymore eyes are on the three of you.

On the way home, you’re silent. Your body feels hot. Your head light. What did you just witness? The man next to you showing his power, and while it should scare you just how quickly he put Elijah in his place, your body can’t help but to react. You sneak a glance at him, but you aren’t sure why you’re suddenly so intimidated by him in the best ways. A gloved hand grips the wheel, the muscles on his arms tensing as he drives. He keeps his focus straight. You don’t know if he’s aware of you staring, but now you can’t look away.

His dark, lonely eyes are pinned in the lights ahead. A large, round shoulder hides the bottom of the mask he wears. His turtleneck hugs his chest and stomach tight. Pressing your thighs tight together, your gaze drops to his lap. You remember what it feels like to have him against you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to feel it again in the moment.

You’ve never wanted to admit how attracted to him you are, but there’s no denying it now. Not when you’ve seen how strong he is. How powerful. Intimidating, even. You can’t imagine all the dangerous men he’s helped your father take down.

Big, and strong, and quick… and thick. You have to scream at yourself to stop from imagining what he’d feel like inside of you. It’s not right. Between your thighs begs to differ, though. You feel the heat pooling there. You’re wet. You need him. Not want, need.

“Stare any harder, flower, and I’ll have to pull over.” His deep, raspy voice takes you by surprise and pulls your mind from all the naughty things you’ve been thinking. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to focus in on the present.

“P-Pull over?” You gulp, chest rising slowly and falling even slower. God, the things this man does to you.

“The way you’re lookin’ at me is distracting,” he admits. “Not safe for driving.”

“Oh, sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, turning his head to meet your eyes, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

***

As the days go on, you try to ignore the tension between the two of you. It’s hard to ignore how much your body craves him. What was once honest hatred of this man has turned into lust, and even scarier, you begin to actually care about him.

Whether it meant anything to him or not, he stuck up for you against Elijah. When the rest of the world wanted to gossip and get the latest scoop, he made it clear the only thing he cares about was protecting you.

You try to remember that’s just his mission. You’re a mission to him. Even though he said he didn’t mean it, the fact is true. You can’t let yourself get carried away in fantasies of being with him. It would never work.

You spend your time at home, having enough of being in the public eye. You continue to try to write songs to take your mind off of things. He lingers close by, and even with the tension between the two of you, you find his presence relaxing. You feel safe. Even if it’s not real, you feel protected and cared for. You can let yourself indulge in that feeling for at least a little while. No one has to know your delusions of wanting to be with him. You keep to yourself, minding your business and doing what you do best. Music.

The song writing goes on a little too long one afternoon, realizing you never had lunch or breakfast. When inspiration strikes…

“Are you hungry?” you ask him, realizing you don’t think you’ve ever seen him actually eat. You assume he gets a quick meal here and there when you’re busy with music related things. Your kitchen is stocked, so he has his choice of whatever he wants. Now you feel like take-out, however. “I’m going to order dinner.”

He looks up from another remote case he’s assisting with off-site. “Sure, I can eat.” He grins beneath the mask. You’ve gotten good at spotting it. It makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Can you even eat in the mask,” you ask, thumbing through your phone to place a quick delivery order for the two of you. You’re only half-joking, but you wonder why he wears it all the time, even when it’s just the two of you.

“I can do a lot of things in this mask, flower.” His tone darkens. A shiver courses through your body, flooding you with goosebumps. Gulping, you try to ignore the words. Just when you think you’re good at pushing away what you’re beginning to feel for him, he pulls you right back in. You wonder if he received some super secret training for that as well.

“Okay, food ordered,” you say, the words trembling from your tongue. He chuckles, enjoying the way he makes you so weak. You thought he only liked making you angry. You realize he just loves any reaction from you whatsoever. “But… really? Can you eat with the mask? Do you ever take it off?” Your voice isn’t full of venom like the first time you asked about it. You find yourself truly wanting to know him better.

“I take it off when I’m alone.”

“Why wear it all the time?” You sit next to him in the living room, scooting closer as he replies.

“To keep my identity a secret. It’s better for missions,” he responds nonchalantly. “No one really wants to know me, anyway, so why take it off? Not the real me, anyway. Just the soldier that follows commands and can kill without thinking. Nothing else matters when you’re in the middle of tracking down dangerous people.”

You take in what he says. It makes sense why there’s longing and loneliness in his eyes. No one knows the real him. Maybe no one has ever cared that he hides himself from the world, but you do.

“I feel the same,” you finally say, reaching to rest your hand on his arm, hoping he will feel your sincerity. With a sigh, you continue. “I mean, with wearing the mask and hiding yourself. It’s like as long as I do what I’m told, everyone is happy. No one cares how I feel. They hate when I want to make my mind up for myself. As if I’m a little girl that never knows what she wants for herself.”

“Well, we both know that’s not true,” he laughs. “You certainly know how to fight for what you want. You showed me that plenty of times.”

You giggle softly, not even thinking anything of it when he removes your hand to place it in his own, giving your palm a squeeze.

“Yeah, I… didn’t mean to be such a bitch to you,” you confess. “I was so angry at my father for deciding what’s best for me. I spent most of my life figuring things out on my own while he was busy with his job. Only for him to come in whenever he wants to say I’m not allowed to do this, or go there, or date this guy. I’m only here to be a burden to him and his career.” Your voice falls as you finish speaking. It’s a weight you’ve carried for so long knowing the one person you wanted most in the world to be proud of you never cared for your choices in life. He’s never taken an interest in your career, and everything you’ve accomplished, you’ve done on your own.

“I’m sorry, flower,” he sighs. “I… didn’t have the best childhood, either. My father wasn’t the nicest to my mother or me. It’s part of the mask thing, you know? Easier to hide myself than deal with no one wanting me around or getting in the way. I’ll leave before getting left.”

Guilt sinks into your heart. He’s felt that way since childhood, and you only furthered the idea by being pissed he was assigned to watch over you.

“I… want you around,” you reply quietly, intertwining your fingers with his gloved hand. He’s so protective of himself while you always wanted to be open and free. The realization hits you hard. The heaviness rises in your throat, burning with guilt for pushing him away so hard at the beginning. “I hope you can see that now.”

“I do, flower.”

Your heart melts in an instant. How could you have hated him for so long? You’re angry at yourself for not giving it a chance and getting to know him.

Before you can reply, there’s a knock on the door with your food delivery. Regretfully, you pull away to answer, grabbing the food and quickly getting back to him. While you’re placing the containers out in front of you on the coffee table, he sneakily pushes his mask up over his mouth and the tip of his nose. You see him out of the corner of your eye, glancing once then staring the second time while handing him his food.

You don’t say a word. All you can do is take in the sight of his mouth, his lips, the tip of his nose. His strong jaw. His smooth skin. You want to reach out and touch him but you’re scared he’ll retreat. You can’t pull your gaze away, taking in the sight of him because you know it’s something he doesn’t show often. Your heart swells, warmth filling your chest. He put so much trust in you to uncover a part of himself he’s kept hidden and secured for so long. You want to cherish the moment for as long as you can while the two of you enjoy dinner together.

***

It’s not often you do favors for people in the industry, but when one of the label execs asked for you to perform at a club his friend owns, you couldn’t turn him down. Not only because it would get you more exposure and in with a particular group of board members of award shows that were closely related, but because you simply love being on stage. The club is prestigious enough that it won’t be a rowdy, wild crowd, and who knows who else could be watching you that night?

Of course, your Lieutenant is close by as you hit the stage. He watches you closely, never taking his eyes off of you while you sing and dance for the crowd, as well as take a few shots to get them hyped up and in the mood. You’re working everyone over by the time the end of your set comes. The audience grows closer to the stage, making it more fun to interact with them.

Still, you keep your attention on him every now and then. He’s in the back of the crowd, but to the side of the stage. He’s laying low, dressed in all black, a hood over his head and his usual skull mask on his face. When the last song comes on, you can’t help locking eyes with him while you sing to the slow, sexy beat about being with a guy in secret. How good it will feel, how fun it would be if no one knew. Just the two of your bodies together even if it’s bad for both of you. He holds your gaze with an intense expression. You can’t look away from him, not for a second. You’re in a trance as your hips sway to the music around the microphone stand. You see him puff out his chest as the muscles in his body tense. He’s just as affected as you.

The set ends and the crowd cheers for you while you wave goodbye, remembering now that there is a crowd and it’s not just him and you in the room. You quickly run off stage to cool off in the back, and it doesn’t take long for him to find you in a lonely hallway.

The music echoes through the walls, but it’s more quiet as the DJ continues to spin top tracks from the charts. Your mind is spinning from the performance and the few shots you had while on stage. You’re not drunk, just a little tipsy, but it doesn’t stop you from running to him with a giddy smile. You’re nearly alone, with a few people passing by — workers clocking in and out, someone taking a selfie down the hall. The only one that matters, however, is him.

“Having fun?” you ask, though you know he’s probably not. You assume he’s not one for these kinds of crowds.

“You know how to work a crowd,” he says, making sure you know for a fact his eyes were on you the entire time.

“Of course, it’s my job!” You giggle. “And I love it. I love performing! I love dancing and I love when people watch me.”

By now, you’re nearly pressed against him. The alcohol is surging through your body. You feel so light. So happy. You decide you love being around him. He’s big and stupid and grumpy, but you love it. You can’t help but to keep giggling.

He stares at you with his head tilted to one side. You laugh even harder a moment before settling.

“Do you like watching me?” you ask, biting your lip after licking them.

He stares into your eyes. Those deep, lonely eyes of his. “I didn’t hate it.” He takes a step, pressing his body against you. You wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

“Mm, I’ll take it, Lieutenant.” It’s one of the nicest things he’s said about your music. Of course you’re going to take any and all compliments from the cold-hearted soldier.

He cocks a brow while placing his gloved hands on your hips. “Oh, you’ll take it?”

Is that humor in his voice? Is he actually flirting this time and not just trying to rile you up? You giggle more, standing the toe of your heels to try to reach his mouth.

“Yes, I can take it,” you reply in a whisper, mouth so close to his mask. Your lidded eyes stare up at him, heart skipping a beat as heat washes over you.

“Are you sure, flower?” God, the things the nickname begins to do to you. It’s honestly sweet, if you think about it, and it makes you weak in the knees. It’s painful how much you want him. “Can you take me?”

You gulp, eyes fluttering as his hands begin to caress your hips. “I’m not the delicate little flower you think I am.” The space between you closes as he lowers his head. Your lips just barely brush against the mask. You want to feel him against you more than anything. “I can take all of it, Lieutenant.” Your tongue slips past your lips to ghost over the fabric, feeling the outline of his mouth. “Every. Inch.”

He growls, digging his fingers into your body. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You could say the same. This man drives you wild. You don’t even care to hide it any longer. You want him and you want him to know.

A scream suddenly echoing throughout the front of the club breaks the spell you have on one another. His head jerks toward the noises past the hallway, suddenly on high alert as he blocks your body with his own from the door close by. In the other room, you hear a commotion, bodies shuffling, more screaming, fighting. You don’t have time to think.

He quickly grabs your arm to pull you farther into the back of the club. “Hurry!” he commands, and you have no chance to question him. He turns a corner and drags you along before stopping abruptly. Your body crashes into his back a second before you peek around him, spotting two masked men at the back exit of the club.

They don’t stand a chance before the soldier is on them. He grabs one in the middle of throwing a punch, twisting his arm with a kick to his knee, knocking him to the ground. The other man moves in, grabbing the Lieutenant by the waist, but is only met with a sharp knee to his stomach. The first man regains his balance, lunging toward him with all of his weight as the two tumble into the wall.

The second man moves past, aiming straight for you. You begin to back up, but he rushes to take hold of your hair in a tight fist. You scream, raising your hands to begin hitting him in the chest in an attempt to get out of his hold. You miss the shuffling of bodies straight ahead of you, the cry of pain, the thud as one of them hits the floor.

The man grabbing you is quickly snatched back, the Lieutenant coming into view. He takes the attacker by the arm, twisting it so far back you hear an actual snap of bones. He cries out in pain before slumping to the floor along with his partner.

“C’mon!” Your hand is taken and you’re led out of the club in a rush. Everything is going so fast. The world is spinning around you, heart racing, knees about to give out as you try to keep up with him on your way to the SUV. You feel so weak, so out of breath, and he quickly realizes that, turning to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. He jogs the rest of the way while you hear the police sirens flooding the night’s air. Voices all around of people shuffling out of the club fill your ears. Your vision is blurry, going in and out and you aren’t sure if you’re going to pass out from being so overwhelmed.

Your body is thrown into the front seat and quickly a seatbelt rests over you. Blinking, you try to focus on anything to stabilize your vision. The vehicle is started. Tires screech as the two of you drive to safety.

“What… what happened?” Your voice is quiet, trembling. Just speaking the words make it harder to breathe. He doesn’t say a thing, only reaching for his phone in his pocket before tapping the screen a few times. “What’s going on?” you ask again. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything to you.

After a few silent seconds, someone picks up on the other end of the phone. You hear a deep voice, but you can’t make it out. “This is Lt. They’ve found her.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Who? Who found who?” You reach for him, squeezing his arm. He ignores you, speaking a few code names and keywords as usual. Things you don’t understand. Undercover special ops phrases, of course. Then he hangs up. “Please… answer me.”

“Those men back there work for the men your father is currently trying to capture.” He grunts, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “They were there for you.”

“What?” You lean back in your seat, sinking down while placing a hand on your head.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You knew this was a possibility the whole time! And I fucking let my guard down. You could have gotten hurt. Or worse…”

“No, I thought my father was just being stupidly overprotective as always!” The words spin in your head. It still hasn’t dawned on you. There’s no way you were actually being sought out as some sort of revenge for your father getting close to taking down a criminal.

“I don’t know how to tell you this delicately, but there are men out there willing to hurt you just to hurt your father.”

You’re speechless. You keep your head in your hands. You don’t know how to process this information. He says nothing else. Neither of you do the entire drive back to your home, other than him mumbling to himself that luckily you weren’t followed.

When you arrive home, you aren't even sure what to do with yourself. What can you do after you were attacked? Your body slumps to the door, right in the doorway, tears you've been fighting finally falling down your cheeks. Your body heaves in a sob, finally letting it all sink in. You were attacked. You could have been hurt, and there you were flirting and teasing him like nothing else mattered.

You were almost taken by dangerous men. You really did need protection. For so long, you've wanted to be independent and strong. For so long you thought you could live life on your own. Your father was right. You are just a sad, weak little girl.

You continue losing yourself until a strong arm wraps around your body to pick you up from the floor. He pulls you in without hesitation. Wraps your body up against him, carrying you to the bedroom. He sits on the bed, still holding you against him as you cry into his jacket.

"I'm sorry, flower," He whispers, stroking your hair. "I know you're scared, but you don't have to be as long as you're with me. I promise I'll be dead before anyone lays their hands on you. Trust me."

You do trust him. You believe every word. You feel it as if each syllable is wrapping gently around your heart to ease the pain. You want to feel embarrassed for breaking down in front of him. Normally you would, but you're so angry at yourself for not believing them in the first place. How could you be so naive? Not anymore. You won't put yourself in that position again.

"Will you… stay with me?" You ask, sniffling while pulling away from him. "Tonight? Please, I don't want to be alone."

His eyes scan your face for a moment. "I'd do anything for you."

Your chest swells. He really is so sweet. So kind. Caring. All the things you accused him of not being, he is. You want to stay with him not just now, but forever. You're not scared to admit it anymore. You're not scared at all as long as you have him.

"I need to take all this off. I feel gross." You both look down at your performance outfit and then you motion up to your makeup. You need to wash the night away. You don't care if it's stupid to feel this way. You need to get everything off. You can still feel a sting in the back of your hand where the man grabbed you.

He nods before you slip off his lap, then he follows you to the bathroom. At first he leans against the door frame with his arms folded, until you motion for him to get the zipper on the back of your dress. He does so delicately, zipping slowly down until your bare back is uncovered. You feel his gaze on you. You know he's taking it all in. Your heart races as warmth floods your body.

You don't know what's gotten into you, you just know you want him close. You need him now more than ever. You want to feel this safe all the time.

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you in thin, flimsy panties in black. You hear a sharp inhale from behind, feeling your insides shake from knowing how much of you he's seeing. Suddenly, his fingers are on your neck, gloved knuckles brushing over your flesh, down your back between your shoulders, but he stops when he gets to your pantyline.

"Will you sit here while I wash up?" you ask, but you know he will. You want him to feel needed, because you do need him. Your heart wants him just as much as your body.

"Of course, flower," he says, voice deep, dark, demanding of your body's attention.

"I love when you call me that," you admit. "I pretended to hate it, but it always gives me butterflies."

"I love calling you my little flower," He replies, a smile in the words. "I love calling you mine."

You turn around upon hearing that, giving him a full view of your exposed breasts, stomach, the little V between your legs. His gaze lowers, taking in every inch of your body you're willing to allow him to see.

You don't say anything, too surprised in his confession to speak. You only lower your panties to the ground, giving him another part of your body to soak in. He practically groans at the sight of you naked before him. Your nipples harden beneath his heavy gaze. Heat surges through you. Yet, you're not embarrassed or ashamed. You feel appreciated by his lonely eyes. He doesn't make a move on you, doesn't even mutter a word. Now you believe him when he said he would worship you. He's doing it with his eyes in the moment.

Finally, you turn from him to take your shower, letting it heat up a moment before you step past the glass door. He watches you the entire time, lathering up your body, washing your hair, allowing the water to drip down every inch of you into the drain. You feel his eyes focused the entire time, but it doesn't make you feel insecure. No man has ever looked at you the way he does. He has so much adoration in his eyes you feel like you'll burst. There's longing, passion, and need.

He has a towel ready for you as you step out, wrapping up your body in an instant. You appreciate the warmth he can offer, making you feel so safe in his arms. You dry yourself off with his help, letting the masked man take care of you.

You decide in the moment you don't care about anything else. You just want to be with him. You're falling in love, and there's no slowing down your heart. You don't want to try even if you could.

"Kiss me," you suddenly say, dropping the towel to the floor. "Please, you don't have to take the mask off completely. I know it's hard for you. Just… kiss me? Please?"

He stares down at you for a moment. The question sinks in. Your assurance about his own insecurities over exposing himself even more so. Then he pulls you close by one strong, tattooed arm behind your back. With ease he props you up on the bathroom sink before lifting the mask enough to show his mouth.

His lips find your own in seconds. The smooth, soft skin presses to your lips in a rush of need, desire, desperation. You melt into him in an instant, so entranced by this man you would do anything for him. You pull him closer by the collar of his jacket, wanting more, needing to deepen the kiss and receive all of him. Your tongues collide and moans fill the air. His body presses into you, feeling his hardened cock rub against your bare slit.

The feeling is electric. Warmth fills you from head to toe as he kisses you. Finally, you surrender to him, becoming weak before him, opening yourself up to him, giving him all of you.

He doesn't take the moment for granted. His mouth lowers from your lips to your neck, kissing every inch of flesh he can reach. You cry out for him not to stop, giving him access to every part of you he wants to kiss.

It doesn't take him long to drop to his knees. A gloved hand parts your thighs wide for him. He kisses your inner knee softly, trailing toward your pussy as you lean back to give him more access. You're on full display for him, hearing him groan from the sight of your awaiting folds needing his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, flower," He growls, placing both hands on the backs of your thighs to push your body back and hold you in place. "If I die right here, I'll still be the luckiest man in the world getting to worship this pretty cunt."

His words make you shiver. Never has a man spoken to you as such. Especially not one kneeling between your thighs. What he says goes straight to the pit of your stomach, swirling lower as the red hot heat of desire settles in.

"Please," you beg him, not an ounce of shame in your body as you reach for him, pulling him closer to where you need him most.

He urgently gives in to your every command, whimper, and plea, lowering his half-masked face until his tongue becomes buried between your folds. A gasp fills the bathroom as your fingers dig into the back of his head, feeling him slip his tongue down your slit, from your aching clit to your entrance dripping with need. He presses his mouth over the swollen bud, sucking lightly to have your head falling back, jaw going slack. Cries of his name spill from your lips in the process, overwhelmed within seconds of this man's pleasure you're receiving. You push against the hold he has on your thighs, but he's good at keeping you in place as you shiver around him.

He tends to your clit, massaging in delicate circles to have your walls tensing. “Oh—” Your voice is shaky, a long exhale following the word. “Oh my God…” You can’t help but you rock yourself against his motions. Your body comes alive due to his mouth against your flesh. Heat begins building in the pit of your stomach, pleasure coursing through your body.

He keeps his eyes on you from between your thighs. You look down in time to see his tongue lower to your entrance as he slips inside of you, tasting every last drop of arousal you offer him. You pull him closer, pressing your thighs against the sides of his face and his tongue delves deeper inside of you a moment before licking back up to your clit. The motion drives you wild. Your eyes screw shut. Head back. Gaping. He teases and sucks and licks until you’re trembling against his sturdy, strong palms pressing to your thighs.

“I’m… I’m getting… c-close…” You can’t help but to mutter. Your voice wavers with each syllable. Heat swarms between your thighs. The blissful coil tightens in the pit of your stomach.

“Come for me, flower,” he growls between your legs. “I want to taste it all.”

The words send you over the edge the moment his mouth is on you again. He massages your clit right as you begin barrelling over the edge of pleasure. Gasps and moans fill the bathroom, thighs squeezing around his head as you roll your hips against his motions. Shaking, you hold him close with a hand still pressed to his head, and he never lets up, using his tongue to extend the bliss all throughout your body until you can barely take anymore. Then he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your slit, tasting all of you just as he said.

Gently, you push him away with a heavy exhale. You can’t take anymore. Your entire body is trembling in the aftermath. He pulls his head away, looking up at you while licking his lips. Then he leans in to press a few kisses against the inside of your thigh, keeping his eyes on your own the entire time. As if he’s claiming your body belongs to him now. There’s no turning back, and you wouldn’t want to even if you could.

***

It doesn’t take long for your father to get word of what happened at the club.You expect him to appreciate the Lieutenant for getting you to safety without any harm to you. He saved your life while getting attacked by two men at the same time. He should be thanking him, but you instantly hear a cold, stern voice coming through the other line when he picks up his ringing phone. Your father begins to question what you were doing in such a large crowd in the first place, why you weren’t being supervised better when that was the Lieutenant’s mission.

It comes as a shock when you hear him ask why the Lieutenant has his hands on you in the back of the club. Your eyes grow wide. He says nothing to your father, only letting him rage through the phone. You trace your steps back to the previous night, knowing you were tipsy before you quickly sobered up when the attack happened. You only remember a few other people in the hallway with you… but you did see a flash go off.

Someone took a photo of the two of you while he was holding you, and it somehow got back to your father. Now he’s being reprimanded over the phone by the commander. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

When he hangs up the phone, he doesn’t look at you.

“What’s going on?” you ask, knowing it became quiet at the end of the conversation. “What did he say?”

He hesitates for a long moment, looking down at the floor as he hovers near the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest. He won’t look at you at all. That same defensive stance that used to drive you crazy has made its return.

“It’s not good, little flower,” he finally speaks. Your heart jumps. The last thing you wanted to do was get him in trouble. “I’ve been reassigned.”

“What?!” You jump up from your seat, rushing to him. “No… No! Reassigned to what? Who is going to protect me? It’s obvious I need it now more than ever.” Your heart races, chest so heavy it’s hard to breathe. You don’t want to be without him.

“Someone else will look after you.” His voice is quiet, defeated. He knows there’s nothing he can do. He can’t go against his commander. “They’re putting someone else on duty to take my place.”

“No!” You begin shaking your head, not accepting this news at all. There’s no way you can have anyone else. No one can protect you like he can. “No, there has to be something… I’ll call my father!”

“Not a good idea.” He still isn’t looking at you. You wonder how much shame would be in his eyes if he were to. “Your father saw us together at the club. I don’t know how it got back to him, but he saw us. He thinks I put your life in danger, and he’s right. I wasn’t focused on my mission. I can’t focus when I’m with you because all I want to do is touch you.”

The tears begin welling behind your lids as you listen to him. A lump forms in your throat, the breath nearly taken from your lungs as he speaks.

“So I’m back to being just a mission to you?”

He sighs, running a gloves hand over his face. “I don’t know what you expect me to say…” You can see his jaw clenching through the mask. “Two missions in a row I disobeyed orders. No one was supposed to touch you. Especially me.”

He confirms what you feared. You’re just another mission he’s failed.

“Don’t do this.” You gulp away the tears. You can’t be weak in front of him. You can’t let him break your heart like this. “You said you would never let anyone hurt me and you kept that promise. But right now? What you’re saying. You’re breaking my heart. After what happened…”

“It shouldn’t have happened!” His voice raises just enough for you to step back. Your eyes grow wide.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” Your voice is trembling. Your bottom lip quivers. It’s like you’ve been gutted with your heart ripped out all at once. Each breath you take feels like the last because you don’t know how he could say things he doesn’t mean. You know he doesn’t mean it. “You don’t have to be so cold.”

He laughs without any humor in his voice with a shake of his head. “Is that what you think?” His tone is suddenly harsh, bitter. “You’re naive if you think that. Being cold is how I survived for so long. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I should have never let my guard down last night. I should have never…”

His words fall. You know what he wants to say, even if he can’t bring himself to speak it. Your heart twists and shatters, the final nail in the coffin. He’s not just upset he’s being reassigned. He’s angry at himself for getting distracted, and he makes it clear being with you was a mistake.

He huffs and runs a hand over his face. “I should go. Someone will be here soon, you won’t be without protection for long.” He turns to leave, cold as ever.

You follow him, gathering up all the courage inside yourself. You don’t want him to leave. “You’ll regret this!”

He pauses at the door, hand already on the handle. He doesn’t look at you. Not even a glance over his shoulder. “I already do, flower.”

Then he’s gone.

***

Two men are sent to watch over you that night. Your father’s orders. Maybe he sent two this time so they could keep an eye on each other. It doesn’t matter either way. They don’t speak much, and you don’t care to get to know them.

You miss him already.

You can’t even believe you fought so much with him at the beginning, then ended up falling for him. It’s so quiet now. You don’t have him to keep you calm anymore, and everything in your home feels so different. Off.

You hate it.

Their protection doesn’t last long, however. When the men attacked you at the club, it gave your father’s team leads where to find their criminal leader. Their urge to get to you only drew your father closer to them, and eventually their organization was taken down in a huge raid. You no longer needed protection and they were assigned somewhere else, leaving you alone.

You’re thankful of that, at least. Now you can get back to your life. You wonder how, when all you can think about is him, however. You wonder if he’s hurting the same way, missing you just as much.

“Just call him, honey,” Marjorie tells you one day, but you shake your head at her.

“He made it clear he doesn’t want to see me.”

She looks heartbroken enough for you and drops the subject.

Time passes but it’s not any easier. Not when you feel so strongly for the soldier. Not when you know he made a mistake. You don’t care what anyone says. What his orders are. What people expect of either of you. You both deserve happiness, and you’ve never felt calm and happiness like when you were with him.

Your father calls eventually, telling you the team is throwing a celebration in his honor and he would love for you to come. A few reporters will be attending as well. He’s even getting an award from top officials for taking down such a large criminal organization. The thought makes you even more bitter.

You attend the party taking place in the large meeting room turned ballroom of headquarters, however, but only because you hope you will see the Lieutenant there. Your father, other Lieutenants and Sergeants, as well as the staff that worked in the background, are there with their partners when you show up that same night to congratulate the Commander. Everyone is mingling, a little tipsy already, and you feel so out of place. You don’t know any of your father’s colleagues. Well, except one. You don’t see him anywhere, even though you’ve been keeping an eye out all night.

Just when you think you’ve given up, you spot him near the back at the bar, listening to someone ramble drunkenly in his ear. It doesn’t look like he’s even paying much attention. His eyes are on you. He spotted you first in the crowd, and when your gaze meets his own, your heart skips a beat.

Of course he’s wearing the mask. Even if it’s a formal celebration, he still hides from everyone here. You can’t look away from his stare. It’s like he’s inviting you in, but you remember his words. He doesn’t want to be with you.

Fuck that, you think. Yes he does. You make a move to go to him, but he’s standing to make his way out of the room. You quickly follow. You can’t let him get away so easily. Leaving the ballroom, you see him making a right into a long hallway. Carefully, considering you’re wearing heels, you chase after him as quickly as possible.

He’s about to enter a closed door when you call after him. He freezes for a moment, as if contemplating if he wants to turn around, then he proceeds through the door. As you walk closer, you see his name on a plaque outside, noting this must be his office. You don’t even knock before making your way inside.

His back is to you when you enter. The room is dark. Moonlight shines through two of the frosted over windows, illuminating the space just enough for you to see the outline of his face, his hair, and jaw. He’s not wearing his mask. He says nothing, and you’re nearly too out of breath from trying to keep up with him in heels. Instead, he reaches for a clear bottle of dark liquor, spinning the top before pouring a shot’s worth into a whiskey glass that was already laid out.

“Having fun at the party, flower?”

He still calls you that. Your heart leaps.

“No,” you tell him honestly. How could you when all you’ve been thinking about is how heartbroken you are.

He downs the drink in one go. “Oh? Maybe you should head home.” You know he wants the words to sound more bitter than he is. His voice is broken. Tired. Lonely. He does miss you. And this is clearly not his first drink of the night.

“I wanted to see you.” The words release in a tremble. You don’t want to be rejected again, but you know you have to try. “I… miss you. I tried so hard to be angry at you for leaving me, but honestly I just miss you. I wish I was angry, because it wouldn’t hurt as much as what you’re doing now.”

“You shouldn’t,” he replies sharply. “Waste of time to waste all that love you have inside of you on me. Don’t do it.”

“Don’t say that!” You step to him, bravely placing a hand on his shoulder from behind. He still won’t look at you. “I know you said you had to be cold to survive, but not with me. Don’t do that to me. You don’t have to find a method to survive with me when you can just live.”

He is silent for a moment. A long breath spills from his lips.

You continue, needing to get everything out that you’ve been feeling since he left. “You told me no one would ever hurt me, but you’re doing it now by trying to hide how you feel.”

“How can I possibly feel anything for you?” he snaps, catching you by surprise. You jerk your hand resting on his shoulder toward you. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” You gulp, trying not to cry once again.

“Don’t make me do this.” He pours another shot and downs it. “There’s no way we can be together. I don’t know what you expected, but people like me don’t know love like you do. I have a job to do. A dangerous one. I’m too fucked up and you’re not strong enough to deal with being with someone like me. And you’re the Commander’s daughter. You think that’s going to go over well with everyone?”

“I don’t give a fuck about everyone!” Now you’re the one snapping at him. His head jerks up, looking at you over his shoulder. You can make out the outline of his face in the moonlight. Even if he’s hurting you, you can’t help but to want to reach out and touch him. “If you’re scared then just say that, but don’t make this out to be like we’re not good enough for one another because I know you care deeply for me. After what we shared…”

“What? I made you come,” he interrupts, nonchalant and dismissive. “That’s all. I wonder what daddy Commander would think if he knew I ate your sweet little pussy. I bet I’d have a bullet in my head right now.”

“Fuck you!” You reach for him out of rage and hurt, pushing against his back, but he doesn’t even budge. You’re done listening to him. This is clearly not him when he’s like this, and you won’t let him disrespect you as if you didn’t share secrets you never told anyone else. “You know it was much more than that. You really are fucked up!”

You don’t mean the words as you turn on your heel to leave. You only want to hurt him like he’s hurting you. Just like when you first met. Just when you reach the door handle, you feel his arms wrap around your body, not even realizing he was making a move toward you. Your back presses to this chest as he holds you in place.

“Don’t fucking say that to me,” he growls in your ear. “You don’t want to go there with me, little flower, trust me.” His words are meant to be threatening, but you feel the pain within them. The anger isn’t directed at you, but the life he’s had to live.

“Stop calling me that and just tell me what’s wrong. Why are you being like this?” You don’t struggle to break free from his hold. You hate how much you’ve missed it. You wish you could be angry at him, but it feels too good to your body to feel his strong arms wrapped around you. There’s no use in fighting it.

“I don’t know what you expected, sweetheart. What? To fall in love and live happily ever after? With a fucked up special ops soldier like me? Always gone. Not knowing if I’ll come back alive or in a coffin.” His words twist around your heart, squeezing until you can hardly breathe. His voice is like ice in your ear. A shiver races down your spine.

“So you would rather be cold to me and not even try because you’re scared of getting hurt? Is that it?” You spit back. You’re not backing down from this fight. “You blame me and not being able to handle being with you, but it’s not me. You’re scared to open yourself up to me, still, even after what we shared. You’re scared of a future that hasn’t even happened yet, you won’t even try for a future we actually want. You’re scared of what everyone thinks, but not what the person that loves you thinks?”

His grip on your loosens just a bit. You’ve taken him by surprise. It’s clear he didn’t expect you to admit you love him, but you do. You’re in love with him, and you love him so much you’re willing to fight for him. Unlike everyone else in his past, you want him there, and you’ll die trying before letting him go so easily.

He sighs, dropping his head. His voice is trembling. Suddenly, you feel warm drops of salty tears hitting your shoulder. He’s crying. For you.

“I’m fucked up, flower.” His voice is cracked and broken. Your heart aches just hearing it. “I don’t deserve you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his confession. His body relaxes behind you, his hands rubbing along your lower stomach, still holding you close. You melt into his touch, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, but you need him to release himself to you. Free himself of this burden that’s been weighing on him to make him feel so trapped in his own hurt.

“I don’t want to be cold to you,” he admits, exhaling slowly. “God, you’re the warmest thing I’ve ever had in my life. You melt my ice cold heart. That’s why I don’t feel good enough for you. I don’t want to dim your light with my darkness.

“Oh…” You sigh, turning around with warning. He falls to his knees in front of you. His face becomes buried in the silk of your dress, tears soaking into the material with his hands on your hips. For the first time, you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve never opened myself up to anyone. Not since childhood.. I don’t even know how, I think,” he continues, words muffled here and there from how close he is to you. He’s never gone into detail about his past, but you don’t want to imagine the horrors he’s seen to make him so shielded. “I’ve never wanted to show myself to anyone until I met you. I’ve never felt for anyone like I do you.”

You allow his words to sink in, feeling the big soldier surrender to you on his knees. “I want to see all of you,” you reply in a whisper. “I want you to be open with me. And I… well, I won’t let anyone hurt you, either. I promise.”

Upon hearing your words, he finally looks up at you to meet your eyes. For the first time, he shows you his face. He shows you all of him. You take it all in, studying the shape of his eyes, his nose, his lips. The curve of his jaw and even his hair. All the way down to his neck, you take in every inch and burn it to your memory.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he confesses. “I’m so sorry, I never want to hurt you again. I never want to be so cruel to you. What we shared allowed me to do this now. Showing myself to you. It was important to me, and if you never want to see me again, I get it, but I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, flower.”

You can’t help the tears that hit your cheek. “I want you, Lieutenant,” you tell him, and in your next breath, you say, “I love you. Don’t ever hide yourself again, okay?”

He blinks a few times, those once lonely eyes filling with so much love for you. He says the words in return, staring up at you until he’s sure you forgive him. Then he stands, wrapping arms around you to pull you close and lift your body to guide you to his desk. He places you on top before his lips come down to meet your own. Taking you in a gentle kiss, you moan against his skin, feeling his body press between your legs. His hands wander anywhere he can reach, savoring you with his touch while his tongue slips against your own.

“What if—” you begin, breathless, whispering as his kisses fall to your neck, “—someone catches us in here?”

“Don’t care,” he growls. “I’ve missed you too fucking much. I want to show you how much I love you, flower.”

Your body shivers. Goosebumps flood your skin. You’re already so worked up, emotionally and physically. Your head is in a whirlwind of feelings while your body goes right back to craving him. Especially when he touches you as he does. His palms caressing your sides before dropping your thighs. Skin on skin makes you finally realize he’s not wearing his gloves. Heat floods you from the contact.

“Touch me,” you whisper, wrapping a hand around his head when he looks at you.

“Tell me where.”

“Here.” You take his hand, touching his skin for the first time as you guide his fingers between your thighs. He presses against your clothed slit, sending another pulse of warmth through your body. God, you’ve missed him. “Please…” you beg him, and he chuckles, kissing you again.

“You never have to beg me,” he teases, slipping your panties to one side to feel your pussy against his skin, “I’m so weak for you, flower, I’d do anything you asked.”

“Oh…” Your breath waivers. Body already trembling by the time he sinks a finger inside you, slowly, driving you wild. Then he adds another, burying the digits deep before pulling them away.

“So wet for me, already,” he says. “Remember when I said I would worship you? Remember when I made it clear there would be no doubt you were mine?”

How could you forget? You remember that night pinned to your bed. His big body on top of you. You were so mad at him you wanted to fight him. “Yes,” you exhale.

“You’re mine, flower,” he growls against your ear, pumping his fingers inside of you, curling them to make you quiver. Your thighs tighten around his hand as he begins massaging the spot that makes your toes curl in your heels. “Every inch of this beautiful body is mine for me to do as I wish. I want to worship every part of you until you can no longer stand.”

Your head spins at his words and the way he’s fucking you with his fingers. Arousal drips to coat his flesh as the warmth swells from between your legs. You whimper his name while running your hands over his shoulders, trying to hold on to the last bit of your sanity. He drives you wild and all you can think of doing is giving in to him, giving all to him.

“Look at me,” he demands, running the fingers of his free hand along the base of your neck until he grabs a fistful of your hair. You meet his eyes in a gasp, not daring to look away from him for a second. His thumb rises to reach your clit, applying pressure to send you closer to the edge. Your chest heaves as the whimpers and cries spill out for him, so lost in his pleasure you don’t care about anyone or anything. “Just imagine when I fill you up with my cock, right here, flower. I’m going to fucking wreck you.”

You’re shaking against him, squeezing your thighs around him, face twisting in bliss. Your mouth remains open, every word a call of his name, a plea to continue, not to stop. You’re getting so close, but you try to push away your end because you don’t want the moment to be over with so quickly. You don’t care about the risk of getting caught. You don’t care about others finding out. You want to live in this moment, with his sinful tongue drawing out the delicious noises you’re making along with his fingers buried deep in your pussy.

“So… so close…” Your hips move with his motions. One hand falls to grip his wrist.

“Come for me,” he commands, “let me feel it, little flower.”

There’s no stopping the pleasure now. It builds with the anticipation of a hungry animal and crashes down around you like dangerous waves. Heat courses through you from between your thighs, the coil of pressure finally snapping to send your body into absolute bliss. You cry out one last time, sinking into his body as you ride out the pleasure against his hand. He holds you close, pulling your body to him and dropping his mouth to your lips. He kisses you through it all, taking it all in as you come undone around him, giving him the chance to show you what you mean to him.

Heavy breaths fill his office for a moment. He kisses you all over. Your lips. Your cheek. Your jaw and neck. He brings you back down just as gently, taking care of you like he promised he would. You’re completely spent. Exhausted from the fighting, worn out from his pleasure. But now there’s peace in your heart. There’s no more fighting, or longing, or hiding how you feel. You’re his, and he’s yours.

A sudden knock on the Lieutenant’s door brings the two of you back to reality in an instant. Before the door can be opened, you slip off the desk to straighten out your dress. He reaches for his mask you didn’t realize was laying right beside you behind the liquor bottle, tugging it over his head. His name is called from the other side a second before the door opens.

“The commander’s looking for you, Lieutenant,” the male voice says. You turn your back from the door, not wanting to be spotted by anyone alone in his office. “And his daughter. Have you seen… Oh!”

Clearly, the guy spotted you and him awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. You peek over your shoulder, realizing it’s just a Sergeant from your father’s team.

“We’ll be there soon, Serg.”

The Sergeant nods, looks between the two of you, then grins. “I’ll let ‘em know, Lt.”

When he leaves, you exhale a heavy breath. “Are you ready to do this?" You know once you walk out that door and return to the party with him, there's no hiding anything between the two of you. You have no choice, really, considering you both have been missing for a while. At least with an audience, your father can't kill you both.

He turns to you, giving you a quick, yet hesitant nod. "As long as you're right there with me." He grabs your hand and together you make your entrance.

Turns out, with an audience and being high off of the congratulations and awards for his bravery, your father isn't too upset. Not even shocked, really, when the two of you return after being gone. You tell him you'll talk later, explain everything, and that's good enough for him.

When he calls you the following day, he apologizes for being too hard on you. He also admits his work gets him so distracted from life, he can't think straight, clearly. When he's deep in a case, he sees nothing else but how to achieve a victory. He explains he overreacted when he found out about you and the Lieutenant at first. After all, your father trusts him, and knows he did everything right in protecting you. If that's someone you want in your life, then who is he to stop you from having your own happiness.

After the phone call, you're shocked to say the least. You feel like you don't even know the man you just spoke to. Maybe his work really does turn him into a cold-hearted soldier, but you're getting used to that fact now. He's still your father, and you know in the end, he only wants you to be safe and happy.

He still gives a stern warning to the Lieutenant when they see each other again. The commander promises if his daughter's heart is broken, there will be hell to pay. The Lieutenant is fine with the promises, realizing he got off much easier than expected. Now he sees he doesn't always have to refuse himself of what he wants, especially when it comes to loving you.

After meeting with your father, he makes his way to you in a hurry considering there’s still so much he has to make up for. You open your door to a bouquet of flowers, and the thought makes you giggle because you just can’t imagine him walking in and purchasing them.

“Is this your kind of humor?” you ask, thinking of the nickname you’ve grown to love.

“Flowers for my flower,” he says, peeking his head around the pink tulips in his hand. You take your gift and allow him inside, quickly finding a vase for them to put them on display in your living room before the two of you take a seat on your couch.

“How sweet.”

“And charming and kind?” he teases by asking, recalling your previous conversations at your label’s office building. You love that he can find a way to lighten the mood and make your past fights seem funny and ridiculous.

“Yes, that, too,” you tell him. Without hesitation, he pulls the mask from his face, laying it to the side. Your chest blossoms with warmth. You also love that he’s grown so comfortable with you. You can’t imagine having to hide yourself for most of your life just as a way to protect your heart. You feel so fortunate he trusts you. He’s still wearing his work uniform, but now there’s less weapons hidden here and there. You imagine he still has at least a knife sheathed somewhere on him. It wouldn’t be him if he didn’t. “How did it go today?”

“I think he wanted to be angry at me at first,” he says, recalling the meeting he had with your father as you scoot closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He instantly wraps an arm around you. You feel so warm in his embrace. The guy radiates heat, it’s hard not to feel so cozy. “Then he explained to me there’s nothing more important to him than your safety and happiness. As long as I can promise you’ll have that, he’s okay with it. I’m not being fired, or worse.”

You have to give your father credit for being reasonable.

“Well, I have that now,” you tell him, lifting your head to press your lips against his cheek. “Though, I was promised a certain thing you haven’t fulfilled, yet.”

He smirks. “What’s that?”

“Well,” you sigh, “you did say there would be a lot of worshiping and groveling and proving I’m yours.”

“Groveling?” He chuckles. “I said that?”

“In my head you did.” He laughs harder at your answer. “Also, you said you would ‘wreck me’ if I remember correctly. And you would do anything I asked, because you’re desperately in love with me.” You’re grinning as you tease him, but his expression falls. His gaze softens, eyes lowering and smile dropping from his face.

“Are you asking me, flower?” His eyes meet yours, tone suddenly darker, suddenly raspy and needy. “Are you asking me to wreck you?” His smirk returns.

You lean closer, a grin on your lips as you whisper in his ear. “I’m begging, Lieutenant.”

Without warning, he reaches to pull you into his lap. Your legs straddle his thighs as you sit on him, arms wrapping around his neck while his hands grip your ass. Not giving him another chance to speak, your lips crash into his mouth. You kiss him desperately as if you’re making up for the time spent apart. As your tongue caresses over his once slipping past his lips, his fingers pluck at the bottom of your shirt. It takes you a few seconds to register the feeling, but you quickly pull away once you do to remove the tee, along with your bra, leaving your bare breasts on display for him.

“Beautiful,” is all he says, reaching a gloved hand to caress your tits and making a moan escape your lips in the process. The feeling of the fabric against your hardened nipples makes you shiver. It’s enticing to watch him play with you in such ways, you allow him to thumb the aching bud before squeezing your breast in his hand.

“Feels so good,” you whisper to him, eyes closing. “I want you to touch me everywhere like that.” You know he realizes you mean with the gloves on when you hear a deep grunt from his chest.

“I plan to,” he informs you, both hands now caressing down your ribcage, to your hips to pull you closer. His mouth is instantly on your body, tongue easing over one nipple before kissing it gently, then doing the same to the other. You can’t help but to moan his name. He sucks on your flesh, taking his time to worship this moment and your body all the same. He kisses, licks, and sucks on your skin until the room starts spinning. You’re so worked up, feeling arousal soak into your panties as you roll your hips against him. You feel his hardened cock between your thighs when you do so, the friction making him groan against your skin.

“I want to feel you too,” you tell him, snapping back to reality and reaching for his thin, black t-shirt. He assists you in slipping it over his head, giving you a view of his chest for the first time. Running your hands down his body, you feel his skin against your own. He’s so warm to the touch, so hard, so manly. Your insides burn with desire.

“I want you,” you whisper while leaning closer, lips just barely touching his own. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

A darkness casts over his eyes at your request, but you’re already working the belt to his pants. Then the button and zipper. He’s nearly bulging out of his boxer-briefs, and he helps you shove the clothing down his hips until a thick, hard and needy cock is on display for you to play with. He’s so much bigger than you were prepared for, but he feels so good against your skin when you take him in your hand. A deep groan builds in his chest from the contact.

“Be gentle with me, flower,” he warns, eyes lidded and his expression twisted with need. His voice is breathier than before. He’s already so worked up. “It’s so easy for someone like me to lose myself in someone like you.” You know his warning isn’t about being physical. You assume he hasn’t been intimate with many people in his life, especially when he’s so guarded. His words fall on your ears like a desperate plea to not toy with his emotions, but how could you when you’re so dangerously in love with him?

Without another word you drop to your knees before him. Your hand grips him at the base of his cock as your mouth draws near. You give him a gentle lick across the tip before kissing his skin. His body tenses in response, so you do it again. How is this big soldier so weak beneath your gaze right now? You have him under your spell as you take him in your mouth, stretching around him so it will fit.

He sucks in a breath and then growls his exhale, reaching for your hair to take in a fistful in his hand. You pump your hand a few times while playfully sucking on the tip just to see his reaction. His hips thrust softly, sending nearly another inch into your mouth.

“Fuck me, flower,” he groans, never taking his eyes off you. “Your mouth feels too fucking good.”

Warmth floods your body from the praise. You want to keep pleasing him. You decide it’s what he deserves and you love seeing him come apart from the bliss. You take him farther into your mouth, sucking him off to hear the groans and grunts he releases. Your hand plays with the shaft, taking care of everything that won’t fit in your mouth. He begins to slowly move his hips, fucking himself into your mouth just like you wanted. His grip on your hair tightens. He’s beginning to lose control.

Then you pull back to run your tongue along the base of his cock all the way to this tip. The motion is painfully slow, teasing him while making the moment last. His jaw clenches at the sight of you on your knees before him, wrapping your lips around his thick, needy cock once again to take as much as you can.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he growls as he thrusts himself back into your mouth. “Take more of it, baby.”

The new affectionate nickname along with his praise has your panties soaked. You take more of him past your lips, eyes beginning to water as the breath catches in your throat. He continues to thrust in and out while you take it, body so hot and worked up you’re dying to feel it in your pussy, too. You squeeze your thighs together as you suck him off, allowing him to use your mouth as he wishes as he pushes your head lower.

“You like my cock in your mouth like this, flower?” he asks, the words released through clenched teeth. His voice is so shaky, so desperate that it fuels your desire even further. All you can do is moan in return as he hits the back of your throat. “Just wait until it’s in that pretty little cunt of yours, baby. I’m going to fuckin’ fill you up.”

You’re shivering as you listen to him speak, keeping your eyes on his face the entire time. He’s so lost in the moment, face twisted in pleasure, head falling back with deep groans filling his throat. His chest tightens along with the muscles of his stomach, strong arms flexing as he brings your head down, then back up.

But he knows he won’t last much longer with your lips around his cock. He gently pulls you away from him with a heavy sigh, taking in the sight of you with tears welling in your eyelids, lips swollen, and gasping for breath. Then he pulls you closer, making quick work of the jean shorts and panties you wear, slipping them to your ankles a second before he’s guiding your back to the couch. He’s between your thighs a moment later.

“Please,” you beg, pulling him close while raising your hips so your soaked slit meets his cock, still wet and messing from being in your mouth. “I need you.” You’re breathless as he pushes his pants lower, getting a better position between your legs before you feel the tip of his length press over your swollen clit.

“I told you,” he begins, lowering his cock to your entrance as he guides himself with a gloved hand, “you never have to beg me.” You feel the pressure of him beginning to enter you, his thick tip slipping between your folds as it stretches your pussy open.

“Fuck,” you gasp, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. He freezes with heavy breaths spilling from his lips, but your grasp moves down his chest to his hips to pull him in. “Don’t stop,” you tell him with desperation. He continues easing inside of you, groaning when he feels you tightening around him. You screw your eyes shut as you adjust to his size, becoming so full of his cock in seconds. Your breaths deepen, listening to him groan as your warmth wraps around him.

“Tell me, flower,” he struggles to say between his teeth, “tell me to keep going. Tell me you want it.”

He’s so deep inside of you, your thighs are already shaking around him. You pull your knees closer to your chest, allowing him room to ground out inside of you, earning whimpers of his name, little pleas and cries to follow.

“Yes,” you tell him in a shaky tone, needing more of him, “I want it. I want you.”

He begins to move his hips, pulling out then pushing back in. He starts slow at first, feeling you quiver beneath him, listening to the breathy little noises you make. He loves it all. Loves watching you unfold in front of him.

“Feels so good,” he groans. “So perfect, and all for me.”

He snaps his hips into you, making you gasp before a moan fills the air. You scratch his sides, leaving marks along his skin as he does so, but it only makes him go wild. He grabs your wrists, quickly pinning them above your head before continuing to bury himself inside of your pussy.

“Remember the first time we were like this, flower?” His pace quickens, pushing his weight into your body to hit you deep within your walls. So deep you feel the pressure through your entire body, rolling your hips to meet the motions in return as you become greedy for pleasure. “When I had you like this on your bed? The way I wanted to fuck you right then and there was almost too much to bear. I was so fucking hard feeling you beneath me.”

His words send a surge of heat through your entire body. Goosebumps flood your skin, too breathless to even speak, but he’s getting off on it. He goes even faster, fucking you until you’re speechless. Every snap of his hips draws out another cry of his name, another plea to keep going. You’re dripping all over his cock and the way he fucks you, he deserves every drop. It’s almost too much to take, becoming overwhelmed from the pleasure, the way he speaks to you, how he keeps your hands above your head. He has complete control of your body, savoring the way it feels deep inside of your cunt.

You feel the pressure building, the bliss swirling between your thighs. His groans fill the air, mixing with your cries of pleasure. Neither of you will last much longer like this. You want one another too badly, your body has been craving his own it nearly hurts.

“Touch me,” you whimper, feeling him slow his pace into deep, long strokes of his cock within you. “So… close…”

In an instant, he releases his grip on you to take you by the hips. He urges your body to flip over before pulling you close from behind. Now your knees dig into cushions while he thrusts himself into you from behind. A gasp spills from your lips just as he wraps an arm around your body, bringing you closer while the other hand slips between your thighs. His fingers find your clit, feeling the material of the gloves against your skin to send your body into overload.

“Like this, baby?” he groans from behind, his mouth right next to your ear. You feel his heavy breaths against your neck. “Want me to wreck this pussy just like this?”

He buries himself into you from behind while tending to your clit. Your mind goes numb, his pace quick, yet he’s still deep inside of you. His ruthless thrusts from behind have the tears welling in your eyes once again. You’re shaking in his arms as he holds you up, heat filling every inch of your body until you begin to lose all control.

The bliss spills over without warning. All you can do is cry out as the waves of pleasure wash over your body, taking hold of every emotion while he continues fucking you from behind. He caresses your clit, the material of his gloves soaked in your juices just the same as his cock. You’re shivering from being overwhelmed with pleasure, walls tightening around him to make him groan and curse behind you.

Feeling you reach your own end has him losing all control. You’re so wet and messy, it feels too good to him as his head falls back and he groans praises. His grip on your body tightens before he spills inside of you, filling you up with his cum just as his pace begins to slow. Heavy breaths are shared in the pleasure to mix with moans and groans and curses. His cock twitches inside of you as you begin to come down, giving you every last drop of his release.

When the both of you finally collapse against the couch, you end up resting against his chest. One leg thrown over his. An arm around your body. You hear his quick heartbeat against your ear and he feels the softness of your skin as he holds you.

“I want you to know how much I love this,” you tell him breathlessly. Your eyes close, savoring the feel of being so safe and cozy. You can’t help but to think how far the two of you have come. You never imagined falling in love, but now you can’t imagine yourself any other way. Your heart swells for this man. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

He chuckles. “It’s real, little flower.” He lifts his head and you do the same, softly kissing one another to cherish the feeling.

You’re his now. The ghost and the flower. One so hidden from the world, the other almost too delicate to touch. Except when you’re together, he can be free from the burden of a painful past, and you get to prove just how strong you are. A match made in heaven.

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