#( c: riley. )

[theorist-fox]

Simon breaks your fever

Because I can't stop thinking about this

18+

CW: you're sick (fever, high body temp), fluff, established relationship, smut (clit rubbing, unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation). you're so hot (literally) that simon busts a nut

Masterlist 🦊

Your fever hasn’t gone down.

Despite you telling Simon that it’s okay, that it’s just seasonal flu and pretty much half of your colleagues have had it, that man can’t stop fussing.

On day two, you heard him grumble over the phone that he had to take some days off for family matters. And while it was cute to listen to him refer to you as family, this whole thing was an overreaction.

You had a cold and a mild fever; you weren’t on your deathbed.

But then he came into the bedroom straight after ending the call, holding a cuppa in one hand and your pills in the other. Left them on the nightstand before pressing his lips to your forehead to check if you were still warm—grumbled something about you heating up the room when he pulled back with a frown.

And then he helped you sit up, fluffed the pillow behind your head, and smoothed away the hair sticking to your forehead. Made sure you took your pills, made sure you were comfortable and cared for and—

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You decide that being sick can’t be that bad, when he makes it feels this good—even if you’re cranky and feverish.

And so, you start offering bright smiles when he presses cold, wet towels to your cheeks. Brush kisses on his knuckles when his palm comes to feel your forehead. Whisper thank yous when he insists you eat in bed, your bowl of soup carefully placed on a wooden bed tray.

And when he gets in bed at night, seemingly unafraid of catching your same bug, you press your back to his chest and fit in his arms. Simon’s already a walking furnace on his own, and your fever doesn't help with the uncomfortable stickiness that grows between your bodies through the night.

Simon doesn’t care, especially on day three, when you decide that a reward is on schedule. Poor man’s been at your beck and call ever since your early symptoms have appeared, so why not give him a reward of sorts.

You press your ass against his crotch, rolling slow circles that rouse him from his slumber.

Simon’s first instinct, however, is to stop you. A big hand flattens on your belly, fingers twitching to resist the urge to curve around your waist and grasp until he dimples the fat there.

A hum leaves him. “What are you doing?”

You nuzzle the pillow and act all innocent, even if he can’t see it in the pitch-dark room.

“Nothing,” you tell him. “Can't sleep. Feel a little restless, with the fever and all.”

“Restless,” he echoes with humour, already catching on. “Need me to wear you down?”

You turn your head until his nose bumps with your cheek. He presses a kiss there.

“Mmh,” you hum with a smile. “Maybe."

His hand rises slowly, and you’re delighted to feel the pads of his fingers reach your chest. He cups your breast through your shirt and thumbs your nipple, already pebbled and stiff. 

Hard like his cock pressing against you.

Your skin is unbearably sensitive due to your fever, and the slightest touch could easily turn into stinging pain. That’s why as soon as he skims over your nipple your body goes haywire and you jolt, grinding the swell of your ass against him. 

Simon presses forward, meeting your inadvertent movement. 

There’s a moan coming from both sides. Yours is more cracked, a wonderful cocktail of relief and soreness—though you’re liking this more than you should, probably. You’re never one to say no to a bit of pain now, are you?

Simon, on the other hand… oh, Simon. His voice is low—gravel against the road. A groan that sounds like it’s coming from a dry throat, strikingly possessive when paired with the gentleness with which he’s holding you.

“Lemme take care of you then, yeah?” He whispers, leaning closer to your ear. 

He tucks his arm under your neck, letting you nestle your cheek in the crook of his elbow. You’re sure he must be running hot too, but you’re sporting a whopping 100.4 body temperature, making his skin feel like an ice pack. 

You sigh beautifully at the slight relief he provides.

Simon takes care of you first, like he's so kindly offered, and you don’t fight against him.

You don’t fight against his hand snaking under the waistband of your sweats. Don’t fight against the pads of his fingers drawing slow eights on your clit. 

What you do instead is bury your face in his forearm, as he presses soft kisses to the exposed skin on your neck.

You get wet embarrassingly easily. He collects it with his middle finger before returning to the tight knot of your clit, circling gently—no rush whatsoever.

He checks in every once in a while, whispering soft questions to your skin as he explores it with his lips.

Are you okay?, and a kiss. You hurtin'?, and another kiss, right under your ear. He waits for you to reply each time, before finally giving in and nuzzling the nape of your neck through your hair. 

He goes on, murmuring sweet nothings when you whine and he can’t pinpoint if it’s from pleasure or your body aches.

“That's it, love,” he whispers, coaxing moans from your lips as his fingers guide you closer and closer to the edge. Steadfast on your clit, he keeps a rhythm he knows will crack through you—break the mould of stiff muscles and sore skin.

Your orgasm catches the breath in your throat. It almost stings, burning through you in waves that stem from your sex and ripple in all directions.

Until your body undulates with it, pressing back into his. Until your voice follows suit too, cracking gently as you bite into the thickness of his forearm to keep quiet.

Simon’s panting against your shoulder like he came as well. It’s impossible not to notice the girth of his cock indenting the fat of your ass, how deliciously hard he is just because he’s touched you so thoroughly.

It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

His lips are pursed in a kiss ardently left to the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness of it, the heat seeping through your much hotter skin. His fingers slow down, until soft circles turn into mere flicks on your clit that gently drag your consciousness back into your body, back into his arms.

“Alrigh'?” He murmurs to the skin of your neck, as he huffs from his nose to balance his breathing.

“Mhmh,” you reply absentmindedly, still foggy and dipped in a dreamy state.

Gingerly, the hand buried in your knickers travels to your waist, leaving a wet trail that slowly dries up—from the curls on your pelvis all the way to your hip. He pinches you softly.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks.

In response, you press your ass to where he’s waiting for you.

“Yes, please—yes.” You say, not bothering to veil your willingness. 

If your bones weren’t aching, you’d let him fold you like cheap paper. Knees to your ears and all.

Simon’s fingers tug down your pants and knickers at the same time, exposing the burning skin of your ass to the air. Even under the duvet and pressed against him, everything feels so unbelievably fresh—it’s utter relief that has you softening against his chest. 

Relief that ratchets up when you feel the head of his cock glide seamlessly through your slit, causing you to grind your hips backwards each time it catches your swollen clit.

His tongue lavishes the skin of your neck, distracting you from the pleasurable pain of the stretch as he comfortably slides in. You feel your muscles tighten around him, as your nails dig into his arm wrapped around your waist.

But Simon’s the one who seems most out of his element, for once.

“Jesus fucking Christ, love.” He breathes heavily to your shoulders. His voice doesn’t even sound like him.

The hand around your waist grabs a handful of your clothes, fabric bulging within the grooves of his fingers, while the one extended under your neck fists the pillow until his knuckles paint white.

“F-fuck—you’re burnin’ up.” He croaks, burying his face against the back of your head. “Bloody hell—fuckin’ melting me down ‘ere.”

He tries to move but his voice cracks in a moan before he stops completely. More muted curses leave him.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel good.” He pants, voice so breathy you can barely hear him, and you wonder if he’s talking to you at all. “S’ so fuckin’ hot.”

He stays stock still inside of you, hips flush to your ass. 

But you’re as cheeky as they come, and he should know that already.

Which is why you move, canting your hips until you can feel him slide out of you, and then back in.

“Fuck, no—sto—"

Simon grunts. Chokes on it. 

One flick of your ass has him unravel. He cums inside of you with a quick snap of his hips to meet yours, and the slap of flesh against flesh would be loud if it weren’t for how strong his groan is. 

For how much he’s filling you up, buried to the hilt until you swear you can almost feel him throbbing in your stomach.

Simon hides in the crook of your neck, holding on tight with a stiff arm curled around your belly. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady.

It takes him a while to recover, to catch his breath. You coax him out of his bubble gently, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp until you feel him deflate behind you with a sigh.

“Bit of a cunt move, that.” He mumbles, but there’s no bite in his voice.

You smile. Somehow the aches in your body soften up, and you feel like floating on a cloud.

“Well, I'd say you didn't mind much,” you say innocently.

He snorts.

A hand lands blindly on your face, and he gives it a good scramble until you’re chuckling in his palm. You easily recognize that as his way to sneakily check for your temperature, while masking it as a playful jab.

“Sorry,” you feel compelled to say, though your voice is muffled by his hand.

And then he nuzzles your shoulder, planting a fat kiss on your neck. 

“S’alrigh’,” he says softly. “Saved us from a third-degree burn, after all. Gotta thank you for tha'."

You burst into a laugh that he catches with his mouth—his fingers already curled around your jaw, turning your head his way before you can utter another word.

Your laughter seeps through your lips onto his, vibrating until his cheeks curl into a smile of his own.

Infectious, like your stupid flu.

Because the next morning, Simon wakes up with a terrible sore throat, though he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he thought he'd be.

In fact, he decides being sick can't be that bad, when you make it feel this good.

Even if now you're both cranky, feverish, and all.

[cybervoid-art]

neck kissies for the boyfriend

[sweetstrawberryys]

"She’s In Labor (Again?!)"

–Part 1: Code Red: She's in Labor.

Summary: Your water breaks, and Task Force 141 loses what’s left of their minds. One’s panicking, one’s too calm, one’s Googling things he really shouldn’t… and the baby hasn’t even arrived yet.

Rating: chaos, fluff, found family madness

Masterlist

---

“GUYS—SHE’S IN LABOR!”

Gaz’s voice echoed through the base like a bomb went off.

Soap, halfway through biting into a sandwich, dropped it immediately. “What?! Now?! She wasn’t due ‘til next week!”

“She said her back hurt, then she made that face—you know the face!” Gaz was already sprinting toward your room like the world was ending.

Ghost looked up from the corner. “We talking full contractions or emotional spiral?”

“FULL CONTRACTIONS, YOU TWIG!” Gaz shouted back.

Soap bumped into a chair, cursed, then tripped over his own bootlace. “What do we do?! Do I boil water?! Isn’t that a thing?!”

“You’re not making pasta, Johnny!”

Price appeared in the hallway, utterly calm, like he wasn’t hearing World War III erupt in the barracks. “Someone grab the go-bag. Get her in the car. We trained for this.”

“We talked about it,” Gaz corrected, “for, like, ten minutes—months ago!”

“She said she felt a pop,” Soap added breathlessly, “I think that’s the part where the baby’s like, ‘I’m coming!’”

Ghost calmly shut his book. “You lot are hopeless. I’ll carry her.”

Gaz held up a phone. “I Googled what to do, it says she needs to—wait. Wait, this is an article about cows—”

“GIVE ME THAT!”

Reader stood in the hallway doorway, doubled over slightly but clearly unimpressed. “Why is everyone yelling?”

They all froze.

“You—are you okay?” Price stepped forward, voice gentler now.

You nodded. “Yes. Contractions started. My water broke. I’m not dying. Stop looking like that.”

Soap nodded rapidly. “Right, right—okay, you’re fine, but also not, because the baby is coming and we are not fine!”

“Car’s ready,” Ghost added, already scooping you up like it was nothing.

“Why does he get to carry her?” Soap muttered.

“I will bodycheck you into a wall,” Ghost said pleasantly.

As they loaded you into the truck, the yelling continued.

“She’s breathing weird, is that normal?”

“That’s called labor, you idiot!”

“Did anyone bring snacks?! What if she’s hungry?!”

Price got in last, shutting the door behind him. “Everyone. Breathe.”

You grabbed his hand. “You’re the only sane one here.”

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

And as the engine roared and Soap started yelling about speed limits and Gaz kept asking where the charger for the speaker went, Ghost leaned back in his seat and sighed.

“Next time, I’m staying home.”

[turtletoads]

hating you won't make you suck any less

[grimmroach]

soap saw this guy and swooned

[nachtaurt]

Post Mission Praise

[ohmygraves]

roommate!ghost who gets home from a long deployment, forgetting to buy groceries for himself afterwards and having to use some of your products.

like, surely he made a mental note five months ago to buy himself some body soap because he just ran out right before his deployment, or at least in his note app. oh, of course. his phone died and he forgot to charge it. well, you won't mind if he use yours, right? and maybe some shampoo too, he can't be walking around the house with greasy hair.

he returned late at night, stumbling into the flat you two shared with his stomach empty, greasy as hell and his soap bottle all empty in the bathroom. just his luck after getting into such a shitty mission.

when you woke up the next day, he was asleep on the couch, not wearing his balaclava and still have his towel around his neck. an empty tupperware on the coffee table (was it the other half of your burrito last night that you kept for today?), some beer (was it yours!?), and the tv being on.

somehow, his hair looked softer, so you ran your fingers through his hair instinctively. and goddammit it was so soft. it was unreal. how did he get his hair so soft with 5-in-1 bodywash!? unless...

ghost woke up from your constant yapping, yawning and rubbing his hair, unsure of what's such a big deal. it's just bodywash, right? and maybe a little bit of shampoo, your leftovers, and some of your beer. why are you so mad at him?

plus, now he smells just like you, had an indirect kiss with you from the burrito, so why should he be bothered that you're yelling at him?

[temeyes]

quick simon (cuz i didn't wanna draw the stuff i actually have to draw,,)

[echo203]

Hc that Gaz has a very specific comedown after a mission and the team has learned how to anticipate and deal with it.

It happened the same way after every mission. It was practically like clockwork. And this time was no different.

Gaz and Soap were seated in the helo opposite Ghost and Price. They had been flying for the better part of two hours and were set to arrive back to base soon. Despite being close to home the team was utterly exhausted though. After handling a cell of hostiles in a densly grown forest the guys had more than a few branches and leaves sticking out of places they were not supposed to be in.

Ghost and Soap got off with a few scrapes and bruises, thanks to Price covering their backs, which would be patched up quickly by medical. Gaz however had been seperated from the team and had to fight his way through enemy territory to find his way back to them.

And eventhough he hadn't gotten hurt significantly worse than his teammates the adrenalin high was sure to leave an aftermath. The shakes hadn't set in yet but knowing how his body opperated in these situations the second he felt a slight moment of safety he'd drop like a stone.

Soap slid a granola bar into his hand making Gaz snap out of the blank stare that he had fallen into. "For later, might make it easier" the scot muttered, his hand moving down to comfortingly grip Kyle's thigh, thumb giving light strokes.

They knew what Soap had been talking about. So as the team got checked out by medical after arriving, Gaz found himself sitting behind a medical curtain with the nurse giving him his perscribed pain meds and telling him to go rest.

That's when he felt it.

His vision started to blur slightly. His hands suddenly felt clammy and grew cold. He almost dropped his medication because his limbs started shaking and he could feel a headache coming on.

But he knew this. Had gotten through it many times before.

He grit his teeth and gathered his things, determined to at least make it to his room. As he stumbled down the hallway he caught a hand out of the corner of his eye. Before he could register what was happening that hand was taking the things he was carrying and someone on his other side draped a blanket across his shoulders.

Ghost carried his things into Price's room and Price guided him with a strong arm around his shoulders. He was sat on the bed as Soap removed his shoes and handed him some juice. "Need that blood sugar up right now."

The others hadn't needed as much time in medial and had evidently gotten changed and ready for the evening. Before Kyle knew it so was he. Price sat down next to him and took his unoccupied hand, while grasping his neck with the other. "You did well out there today Kyle, you made it back to us." As the Captain praised him Kyle started to feel a flickker of warmth inside of him.

Sipping the last drops of his juice and listening to Johnny and Simon bicker about what to get from the mess he let his head drop to Price's shoulder and closed his eyes as his fingertips warmed back up and the shaking subsided.

(Yes, he woke up the next morning squished between warm bodies and feeling like he was on fire but well rested nontheless)

[achemeanspain]

<3

[bearconditioning]

└ Milo Manheim: The Puppy Interview

[keesdarlin]

[MDNI / 18+]

⋆ / a thought ;

is it just me or does simon seem like the kind of guy to hold your face while he's fucking into you? and not in the cute awh let me look at you, baby kind of way. no, not at all, actually. he'd hold your face with one hand in that borderline aggressive kind of way that squishes your cheeks a little bit. in that way that's not painful but just firm enough to keep you from turning your head, so that he's forcing you to look him in the eyes. you manage to turn your head? nope, he's turning your head straight back so that he can see the way your eyebrows knit together when he hits your most sensitive spots. just his little way of making sure you're feeling as good as you sound.

[cybervoid-art]

He needs someone to come warm him up :(

[mattaytchtaylor]

Hexslingers Cover

[grimmroach]

buh

if you want to filter out the eyes, i’ll be using ‘c eyes’ and ‘tw eyes’ <3

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Early Days 💜

In the early days of their relationship, Riley tried his hardest not to burp around Madix. Really, he avoided any bodily functions for the first three months of their dating. It wasn’t a big deal—just a slight aversion to showing vulnerability. Definitely not something he needed to bring up in therapy. 

So, imagine his embarrassment when his belly started to gurgle nauseously on their fifth or sixth outing that happened to be a double date with Madix’s roommate. Dakota was very friendly and loud. His girlfriend, Blair, was more relaxed. They wanted to do something more social than a movie, so Madix suggested a boardgame café just off campus. The combination of new people, a colourful environment, and an upset tummy made him dizzy.   

It was early in the evening. The four of them talked about splitting a plate of nachos as long as they kept the cards and game pieces clean. Riley agreed to everything they said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t eat anything. His stomach still felt full from lunch, and the idea of adding greasy cheese to the mix made him shiver. 

“What’s your major, Riley?” Blair asked after taking her turn to play a card. She had a soft smile that made Riley wish he could engage better in the conversation. 

“Um…psychology.” 

“That’s exciting. I almost took psych but changed my mind because…” 

A hot layer of sweat coated Riley’s body when he felt a gurgle move through his intestines. He shifted in his seat, trying to dull the squelching sounds. He caught bits and pieces of Blair’s story, but his attention was entirely stolen by the writhing in his belly. 

This was bad. The nausea and lower stomach cramps battled for dominance. He was most worried about the bubbling sensation in his bowels. Sweat gathered under his armpits and his neck. Pretty soon he would have to find the bathroom and pray that nobody else needed to go. 

Blair finished speaking but Riley apparently forgot to say anything in reply. There was a long, drawn-out pause. He startled when he felt Madix’s hand softly touch his leg from under the table. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Riley said lamely, pushing his chair back to get out from under the table. “Sorry, I’m just gonna find the washroom.” 

For the next half-hour, Riley came and went from the table. Sometimes he made up excuses about getting a drink, yet never coming back with a cup. Sometimes he left in the middle of a game without saying a word. Most of the time, he hid himself in the single-person washroom, thankful that no one else could come in. 

His belly couldn’t make up its mind about being empty or not. Whenever he thought that there could be no more water left in his cells, he was once again proven wrong by the urgent rumbling in his guts. At least the stomach cramps were never enough to make him vomit, despite the nausea that clung to him like humid air. 

• • •

“Madix, I don’t think your date understands the concept of ‘taking turns’,” Dakota remarked as he rearranged his hand of cards for the fifth time. “He does know that the turns will eventually come back to him, right?” 

“Be patient, baby,” Blair answered for Madix. “He’s probably just nervous. Eat more nachos while we wait.” 

Madix sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to see down the hallway that led to the bathroom. He was beginning to think that he chose an overly-stimulant place for their date. Riley had confessed to him that meeting new people was difficult for him, and here there was a whole other level to the socializing. No wonder his date kept taking breaks. Even Madix found the sounds of other people playing games distracting. The lights were too bright and the rules to every new game were complicated.  

“I should have picked a quieter place for him to meet you guys,” Madix said sadly. “I really want him to like you both.” 

Dakota nodded. “It’ll get easier. I’ll try to shut up more.”

“If he even wants to do this again,” Madix mused. 

Finally, Riley returned to the table. He ambled unsteadily down the hall, keeping his arms crossed over his body. Madix’s face lit up with a big smile as he pushed Riley’s chair out for him. That smile slowly fizzled away when Riley remained standing. 

Riley ran a shaky hand through his hair and spoke with a faint voice. “Madix, can I talk to you alone for a sec, please?” 

The boy was on his feet before Riley could finish the sentence. The two of them stood alone in the corner of the room. Madix lightly touched his arm, waiting for Riley to speak, dreading what he would say. 

“I think I’m gonna go home now.”

Madix tried to keep his expression neutral, as much as he wanted to pout and beg with Riley to stay. “…Okay, if that’s what you want. I’m sorry if this place is a bit much. It’s very busy, isn’t it?” He wanted to hug Riley and take his saddened look away. “And I’m sorry for touching your leg like that earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh gosh, no. It’s not you,” Riley said pleadingly. Fuck, this is not what he wanted. He couldn’t let Madix think the date made him uncomfortable. But the only other option would be to admit how he felt.

“My friends really like you, I promise,” Madix rambled on. “Dakota is just an ADHD mess who never knows when to be quiet. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it. And Blair said she wants to be your best friend.” 

“Madix, it’s not you or your friends or this place.” Riley grabbed his arms to keep him from saying anything else. It was nice to lean on someone. Suddenly the fatigue, nausea, and dehydration slammed into him all at once. He swayed forward. “To be honest, I’m not feeling so hot.” 

“What?” Madix became aware of the weight he was supporting. He watched Riley’s eyelids droop, and his shoulders relax as the truth came out. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to see the signs in Riley’s baggy eyes, ashen skin, and sweaty palms. It explained his absence for most of the date. 

Riley let out a heavy exhale. Madix’s face softened as he began to understand. He might as well try a little exposure therapy and tell Madix the rest. “Something in my stomach isn’t sitting so well.”

“Did you throw up?” A realization dawned in Madix’s eyes. “Shit, you have that phobia thing, don’t you? What can I do? Maybe you should sit down.” 

“N-no, I’m okay for now. The fear is mainly towards other people. Like the sounds and stuff.” Riley shuffled his feet awkwardly on the floor, feeling his neck grow warm. “I haven’t thrown up. It hasn’t exactly hit my stomach yet, just um…other areas.” 

“Oh?” Madix cocked his head to the side, waiting for his brain to catch up. “Oh, right. Jeez, I’m sorry. That’s—that’s not fun.” 

Riley shook his head. Nothing about this was fun…okay except maybe Madix’s undivided attention, his strong grip on his arms, and the gentle way he spoke. Still, he didn’t want Madix to be around when the next wave hit. He didn’t want to be here at all. “So, I need to go home.” 

“Of course, yeah. I’ll order a ride.” He looked back at their table. “I’ll make up some excuse for why you have to leave. Can I wait with you outside?” 

“Sure.” 

The curb was cold on their butts, but it was better than standing. Their knees knocked together. Madix wrapped an arm around his date, trying to keep him warm. Occasionally, Riley moaned and leaned his face into Madix’s shoulder. 

“I got you. Everything good still?” 

The gurgling was back, this time causing Riley’s stomach to roil. His actual stomach. The organ ached beneath his hand. He couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than before. Nausea climbed higher up his throat, filling his mouth with saliva that he spat on the concrete. 

“I think I need to be sick,” Riley said, wiping his mouth. He opened his legs further to lean his head down into.

“Do you want me to leave?” An excellent question that Riley didn’t know the answer to. He liked the warmth pressed into his side. He liked the feeling of Madix’s hand rubbing his back. Without a reply, Madix continued by saying, “I don’t mind staying. You won’t gross me out.” 

A thick belch erupted from Riley’s mouth. He let his mouth hang open for saliva to trickle between his legs. “Ugh, please stay. I feel awful.” 

“I know, love, I know.” Madix rubbed big circles on the boy’s back. He vaguely wondered if Riley was going to overthink the term of endearment. All he knew was that his mom called everyone that, and it seemed to bring them comfort. It certainly brought Madix comfort when he’d been upset or sick.

Riley gagged over the puddle of saliva. The empty heaves rolled his shoulders forward with a harsh retch. He breathed heavily, hoping the vertigo would lessen before he actually started to vomit. His vision was obscured with black shadows at the edges. Madix remained sturdy, allowing Riley to anchor himself to him. 

A few hiccups and burps later, Riley brought up a watery wave of sick. Each successive belch became thicker until the full contents of his stomach were splattered on the ground. He felt disgusting. The view at his feet was sickening. But there is no point in describing it because none of it deterred Madix from staying by Riley’s side. 

After a lull in the vomiting, Madix squeezed his shoulder. “Do you feel better?” 

Riley sniffled. “A little. Thanks for keeping me company. I’ve never allowed a date to see me like this.” 

Madix placed his palm on his chest. “Well, I’m honoured.”