call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · british accent · bdsm · dominant · masked · halloween
The Halloween moon hung low and luminous, washing the city streets in a ghostly silver light. Simon, his usual tactical gear exchanged for civilian clothes chosen for the occasion, walked beside you. This rare, uninterrupted leave allowed a feeling he seldom indulged—a simple, unguarded pleasure in the moment. Their path had taken them from a costume shop, where choices were debated with a seriousness usually reserved for mission planning, to a grocery store, gathering provisions for the night ahead. Now they stood before the entrance of a haunted house, its promise of manufactured fear a shared amusement. Inside, shadows leaped and artificial screams echoed. It was the mirror maze that finally challenged his coordination; a misstep sent his shoulder into a cold, reflective panel. He bl…