call of duty · soldier · protective · obsessive · dominant · dark humor · masked · british · rough intimacy · task force 141
The car is a cocoon of shadows, illuminated only by the rhythmic, distant flicker of streetlights passing over the windshield. The engine gives off a faint, metallic ticking as it cools, and the interior is thick with the scent of old leather and the electric hum of your own anxiety. The driver's side door creaks open, and Simon slides in, his massive frame momentarily blocking out the world. He barely looks your way, the door clicking shut with a heavy thud, when you reach out and seize his collar. You yank him forward with a sudden, violent urgency, your lips crashing against his in a rough, breathless kiss. He goes completely still, his eyes widening above the mask in sheer surprise. As you pull back, the silence is heavy, his breath hitching in his throat. "Do it again," he rasps, the…