The atmosphere of the vast gym, that echoed with the sound of your clicking heels as they made slow strides past the threshold, was rather thick with a humidity tainted with a musty scent. The air smelled of the rain from the long dreary London days gone by, as though puddles of the fallen afternoon rain lingered within the confines of the tall and bare walls. A faint mildew scent mixing with the rich earthy tones that seeped in from the open door, the nighttime sky behind you dousing the streets in a strong scent of saturated soil, from the relentless precipitation washing over the square. Slowing to a drizzle as night fell over the city, a steady trickling of lingering raindrops that seeped into the forgotten crevices of the street and nearby buildings, as though to erase the stain of the day away before the break of the new dawn. Your breaths were deep, as the air held a heat that the outside evening air lacked, replacing the brisk chill of the blowing September winds with the thick nature that engulfed the dimly lit gym.

Your short cream colored heels clicked softly against the concrete flooring, listening to the patter bouncing off of the walls, but their echo became hidden in the harsher sound coming only a few mere feet from where your steps finally began to slow. It was a heavy sound, a repetitive thump that reverberated through the air, overpowering the noise of your entrance. Your feet stilled a few steps away from the large boxing ring, the corner tall and nearly casting a shadow down upon your frame, from the flickering light that swung above the center of the square.

You knew he hadn't noticed your presence, for the sound of your feet were far from where his focus was in that very moment. Because you watched as Simon Basset swung his fists towards the punching bag dangling down from the hook on the ceiling, the pressure of his bare knuckles colliding with the worn upholstery with a strong conviction, as you listened to the chain rattle from the shaking force in which he sent it swaying. 

Simon's muscles flexed and flared from his actions, the warmth of his flesh bare to your eyes as sweat glistened up and down his heaving chest. The veins in his hands swelled a beating blue as you could see even in the slight distance in which you stood from him, the redness gathering against the cuts ripping through his skin over the bones of his knuckles. His biceps were taut and the muscle that bulged beneath the confines of his perfectly tailored attire during the day, was released and revealed in the dim glow of the light. The chiseled sculpt of his chest, the one your fingers had run down just that very morning, shimmered with the sweat that slid down his smooth skin. Down the valley where his heart laid beating rapidly below the surface, and into the very crevices of his defined and emboldened abs that pushed against his warm skin. Your husband was a beautiful man, as though he'd been shaped out of a slab of pure marble from the hands of God himself. 

Feeling the soft growth of a smile stretching against the very edges of your lightly painted lips, the sight of his body doing things to your heart and parts of your body that you were still trying your best to understand completely, you took a step closer. 

"I thought I might find you here." 

Your words felt thrown through the air, as though they tore through the humidity like a bullet and ricocheted off the walls in a boisterous boom. Simon's fists were lifted in a stance readied for another punch against the poor bag, that was bound to give out soon enough. His head snapping to the left to witness your sudden presence, his shoulders straightening as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest with each racing breath he took. His deep brown eyes settling over your frame that felt even smaller in the vast environment of the nearly empty gymnasium.

You studied him, with the same tight lipped smile toying at the edges of your lips, as the surprise of your voice echoing in the space slowly faded. His brows arching in a faint motion before furrowing softly, his full lips parting as the corners twitched with a semblance of his own hidden smile. 

"And I must confess that I am quite surprised to find you here darling," The sound of his low but ever so comforting and assured voice engulfed the tainted air. His words puffing past his lips in a deep exhale as he caught hold of his breath after a few more steady inhales, smiling softly at the sight of you standing a few feet away. "how was your evening with the married women of the ton?"

His inquiry was drenched in amusement and met with a matching mirthful shimmer found in your reflected gaze. Simon always found it quite entertaining to see you whisked away by Lady Danbury herself, with her indeclinable invitations to her evenings she hosted nearly once a month, and watched you leave at the late hour of dusk with a wave of his fingers and rather roguish smirk tugging at his lips.

But this evening, when you found out that Kate, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton's lovely wife had fallen ill and would sadly be absent from attendance, you knew that the Viscount would likely be at home nursing his wife back to health. Which meant that the plans Simon had made with the Viscount, drinks at a nearby gentleman's club, while you joined Kate in Lady Danbury's "Den of Iniquities" would be put on hold for the time being. Leading you here to the gym he used every so often with Will, knowing better than to think he'd gone back home alone. 

"Quite lovely, thank you." You smiled coyly, as Simon stepped away from the slowly steadying punching bag and over to the rope hovering a few inches above your direction. "But I must say, I missed my husband very dearly."

The soft skirt of your flowing cornflower blue dress, swayed against your ankles as you took another step forward, heels clicking with two soft beats against the hard flooring. Your fingers that were left bare of the satin gloves you left at home for the evening, twisted together in front of you, brushing against the fabric above your upper thighs. The air of the humid gymnasium was a welcome sensation against the bareness of your short sleeved frock, replacing the goosebumps that had arisen from the chilling breeze outside. 

"You would not be jesting me with your words, now would you dear wife?"

Simon's teasing tone was not lost as his words carried in a gentle echo through the air, for the playful sardonic expression saturated his words as he stepped back over to his stance before the now stilled punching bag. His deep set brows, that framed his eyes with a perfection you didn't know was possible from a man's face, furrowed with an impish expression. While the edges of his full lips turned upward, into a smirking curl that made your lips twist into a smile all your own. 

"I rather take offence from such a preposterous notion, why, I would never dream of such a thing!" You joked back softly, watching as his attention turned from your smiling face and back to the faded burgundy bag in front of him. But your words didn't fall on deaf ears, for you watched as his fists readied and collided with the bag once again, while still wearing a loose grin across his parted lips. 

He sent the bag swaying violently back and forth, side to side, as the familiar sound of heavy beating filled the room. Simon's eyebrows furrowing deeply in concentration as he attacked the bag with harsh punches, sweat beading against his scalp and droplets glistened in the low light as they trailed their way into the dark brush of his beard. His deep breaths and low grunts, resonating deep from the base of his throat, melded with the repetitive thuds that consumed the gymnasium air. But just as Simon bounced back gingerly on his bare feet, lifting his fists with another tight punch, your voice spoke up and stopped his movements. 

"Teach me."

Simon's head snapped to the side, staring at you for a moment as he puffed out a deep exhale past his lips, catching his breath as he replayed your abrupt words in his mind. You could see the way your words settled against his conscious, the wheels slowly beginning to turn. His furrowed brows arching upwards as he looked at you with an incredulous expression, as though the blood thumped a little too loudly in the base of his ears and clouded the sound of your words. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

You took another tentative step forward, until your arms could reach up and your fingertips brushed against the rope of the ring. Feeling the loose flow of your thin muslin sleeves, falling back over your shoulders, revealing more of your flesh to the warm air as your arms stretched upwards. Curling your fingers around the abrasive material, you carefully pulled yourself up into the sturdy structure. You could feel the sweeping of delicate fabric twisting around your legs as the soles of your heels nearly slipped against the material you climbed, until you finally stood on Simon's level. Swinging the thick rope over your head, as you ducked beneath the rough fabric and stood a few feet from your husband inside of the ring. 

Exhaling a deep breath from the exertion of just getting into the bloody ring, you rested your hands against your hips. "Teach me how to punch as you do."

You didn't know Simon's brows could raise any higher, until they shifted another fraction as his eyes widened at your sudden and rather unexpected request. A low chuckle rumbling through his throat, expanding into the warm atmosphere as his lips parted into an amused grin. His fists unlocked and his arms crossed loosely over his chest, putting the beating muscle that consumed the entirety of his upper body on display in the dim glow of the swinging light. His stance rather relaxed as his deep brown eyes watched you with clear amusement reflected in his sight. 

"Now, pray tell," Simon began to speak slowly, his words interrupted as he took a short stride closer to you. His arms remaining crossed over his chest, but his head dipped down as he took his steps, lifting only when his feet planted themselves a few mere feet from where your own stood firmly. "what possible reason could a Duchess have, for requiring the ability to throw a proper punch?"  

You knew he was toying you on, although his words held a clear sense of sincere curiosity by your unanticipated inquiry, you could hear the playfulness in his tone from nearly a mile away. But you just smiled at your husband's banter and rather good mood, and replied with the same frisky bite. 

"You never know when the circumstances may arise," You shrugged your shoulders in a light motion, as your hands reached down with a slight bend of your knee, and began to unbuckle your heels, one by one. "I hear the Duke can rather be an arse from time to time."

Simon smirked at your remark, as you collected your newly removed heels in your hands. Your fingertips curled into the backs of the heels, the slightly pointed tips dangling from your swaying motion, until you dropped them down in a soft thud beside your feet in the ring. The foundation beneath your toes felt cool to the touch, as it soaked through the thin fabric of your stockings as you stood against the rubbery base.

Simon pressed his lips together as though to conceal the mirth once evident in his expression, as his arms dropped from across his chest, and he took the last few steps forward. Closing the space remaining between you, feeling the shade of his taller and more broad frame casting over you, as though the cool shadow found in the midst of a hot summer day from a nearby oak tree. Peering up at your husband, capturing the sight of his deeply swirling and strong brown eyed gaze into your own, you watched the edge of his lips twist upwards yet again. With a soft bob of his head and a slightly smug expression washing over his features, Simon took a step back on his heels. 

"Alright, Your Grace," Simon conceded with a playful exhale, backing up another step or two as his arms lifted at his sides, gesturing with the soft flick of his hands to come towards him. "show me what you've got." 

Simon Basset couldn't erase the smile that etched itself within the curl of his lips and the lines against his raised forehead, for he found it incredibly amusing watching you stand there. In the middle of a boxing ring that had seen its fair share of bloodshed and sweat that could never be washed from the tainted air of the establishment. But there you stood, a vision in blue, dressed in the smoothest of silk and muslin fabrics, gliding down your frame that was nearly swallowed in the vast stretch of the ring, looking like the picture of elegant perfection in a place where such a fate didn't quite seem possible. It was an amusing and rather rousing sight, Simon had to admit. 

You took a step or two forward, watching as Simon pressed his lips together in an effort to steady his expressions, to remain serious perhaps, as you did something completely uncouth and maybe a tad comical for a woman of your societal standing. Curling your hands into fists, as your eyes steadied on Simon who stood a few feet beside the rested punching bag, you lifted your arms. Trying to remember the stance that Simon had just exhibited when you walked into the gym, and the form you had seen Will display during his trainings, when you came to spend time with his sweet Alice. You felt anything but graceful in the sweeping silk of your gown, as your knees bent a faint fraction, your arms lifting and readying your aim, as Simon waited for your swing.

Inhaling a deep breath through your nose, releasing it in a smooth flow through the slight parting of your lips, you threw your right fist forward. Feeling the soar of humid air glide across your tight knuckles, until it collided in nearly the very same breath, with something hard but warm.

Simon's palm stopped the blow of your fist, your knuckles landing in a soft clap against the cushion of his warm flesh, capturing your punch and curling his fingers around your hand. His hold was careful but firm as his fingers held tightly to your fist, not even needing to display much of his obvious strength to restrain your hand. Twisting your wrist ever so gently, as to twirl your bare feet against the rubbered flooring of the ring, Simon held tightly to both of your fists as he pulled you towards him, just to push you playfully and without any sign of menace, against the stiff punching bag. 

"Simon!" You shrieked in blatant surprise and exasperation, as a breathless and incredulous laugh fell from your lips. "What ever are you doing?"

The upholstery of the tired and worn down bag was firm against your back, feeling the burgundy material almost making the fabric of your gown stick to your skin, as your neatly twisted curls brushed back against it. The friction and static collecting beneath the strands destroying any semblance of elegance in your styled coils, feeling the fly away strands already curling around the nape of your neck. Your head tilting back as your eyes peered wide up at your husband who couldn't help but grin down at your stunned expression. 

"Your form was entirely off." Simon replied smoothly with a mocking narrowing of his brows, as his hands brought your now relaxed fists towards his bare chest. Feeling the heat radiating off of his flesh far before he pressed your fingertips against the smooth and slick surface, beginning to feel the soft rhythm of his heart beating triumphantly beneath the confines of his strapping chest. His tone was light and playful as though his words spoke with a soft "tsk" in dissatisfaction from your weak little aim, but you smiled at him.

"That is precisely I asked you to teach me!" You expelled in a laugh that echoed through the gymnasium, pushing your hand gently against his chest within the harmless restraint of his strong and unrelenting grasp. "I must admit my dear, you are a rather poor teacher."

A chuckle escaped past Simon's lips, falling in a soft and warming breath over the flesh of your cheeks and it was a welcome sound to your ears. A sensation you never grew tired of hearing from a man who could become stoic and rather emotionless, when certain moments arose in the public eye. It was a joyous noise, one that even in the smallest of breaths to the loudest of chest rumbling laughs in the early break of morning light, filled your heart with a flood of sweeping warmth towards your husband's infectious sense of happiness. 

Staring up at Simon, feeling lost in the depth of his brown orbs that held more emotion and beauty than any other source of the neutral shade in the world, you smiled as your eyes swept over his expression that inched closer to your own. You could feel his soft exhales blowing like the faintest puffs of a breeze against your skin, that had begun to stick with the surrounding humidity and rush of excitement and adrenaline in pumping in your veins. A few heartbeats away from the very tips of his nose brushing against your own and feeling the surprisingly rousing prickles of his dark beard skimming against your own smooth skin. 

"That may be an accurate account," Simon confessed with faint earnestness, while he stared at you with a deepening in the brown of his steady gaze and the ever present curl of a devilish smirk that made him nearly irisitable in all of the right ways. "but I have a far grander idea, one in which I've yet to fail in teaching you thus far."

His suggestive tone was crystal clear, but the expression displayed across the span of his face, spoke wonders as though the meaning within his words was not enough. Simon Basset never, and you feared would never, cease in the profound ability to make your cheeks flush a deep and nearly burning red hue. For you felt the color flow beneath your skin, bringing a certain level of heat to the surface of your face that you could nearly feel tingling beneath the fluttering of your lashes.

Staring up at your husband, who's gaze hovered above you with a certain light burning in the crevices of his irises, one in which you had grown to know rather well over the course of just your first few weeks as The Duchess of Hastings. It was a dangerous light, for it pulled you in as though it was a lasting lighthouse as you waded in a bobbing lifeboat, stuck at sea. Every time you saw it flicker in the depths of his already consuming orbs of a warming chocolate brown, you felt your inhibitions begin to fade. Simon Basset was a temptation in the truest form. 

Peering through the soft curtain of your fluttering lashes, deep into the abyss of his brown eyed scrutiny, hovering above you like the cover of a falling sunrise, you pressed your smiling lips together. Slowly, breathing shallow breaths in and out as you aimed to compose yourself before speaking, as you could feel the fire that only Simon could light beginning to spread throughout your body. 

"Alright, Your Grace," Your voice was soft and nearly breathless as it descended into the humidity tainted atmosphere, blowing softly against Simon's cheeks as his had done moments before. Tilting your head nearly imperceptibly to the side, never breaking your steadily locked gaze with him, you spoke in a tempting tone that perhaps you had learned from your husband himself. "show me what you've got."

The grin that grew across the full nature of Simon Basset's lips, was unmistakable and you were nearly convinced another spout of a lowly rumbling laughter might pass through his smiling lips. But it was in a heart thumping breath, one that made the blood running through your veins feel as though it beat to the very same rhythm, and the warmth consuming your very being feel as though you might combust right there in the very hold of his hands, that Simon leaned forward. The tip of his nose, soft and warm, grazing against the edge of your own. You felt the breath bubbling in the base of your lungs dissipate as though a forgotten whisper in the wind, at the simultaneously pleasant and rough contact of his beard against the skin of your face. Your eyes that had since lost sight of his own orbs, that had dropped when his lips dipped downward towards your own, fluttered softly until they finally shut tightly when the tender brush of his lips grazed over your own. His movements gentle and cautious in the first breath, as though he was kissing you for the very first time all over again. But as you felt yourself begin to kiss him with a sliver of the fire he'd lit and let burn within your being, Simon kissed you with a full range of passion and heavy conviction.  

The lighthouse that had glowed in the glimmer of his orbs, felt like home when you were finally docked in the safety of his embrace. For his hands slowly released your own, letting them fall around the nape of his neck and glide over the warmth of his smooth and still sweat slicken flesh. His own arms coiling themselves around your waist, pushing you further back against the stiffness of the punching bag, while bringing you closer to his bare chest in the very same motion.

You knew, as your lips collided with Simon's over and over again as though the crashing of a rushing tide, that you would never grow used to the feel of his kiss. There would never come a day, when your body didn't soar with the feel of his tender lips against your own or the sensation of his warm fingertips trailing against the goosebumps he'd risen against your flesh. There would never be a day when your heart no longer yearned for him, when the fire he once lit would suddenly be forever extinguished. For as long as you lived, you knew you would forever want Simon Basset as you did now, fervently, with every ounce of your beating heart and outpouring of your very soul.  

A/N: This one shot is a more passionate, softer, and different than the ones I've written in the past. It definitely didn't reach the length as some of my past ones, (something that honestly still throws me for a loop as an author who takes great pride in having lengthier and well formed pieces) but I don't think that this idea was ever meant to be a drastically long piece, but a rather intimate and short one shot of happiness and a level of softness that was much needed after some of my heavier Simon Basset pieces. There are so many layers to Simon's character, so much of it pained and tortured, but there are other sides to him I was able to explore and display in this playful and passionate piece. As I reread through this one shot completed, I am very happy with the story I created here and hope that you all enjoyed this little slice of happy and playful Simon!❤