ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · protective · dry humor · ptsd · fluffy boyfriend · british · muscular
The bedroom lay in a soft, quiet hush, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as you shifted. Pale, dim light traced the strong line of Simon's jaw. His palm was a warm, heavy anchor on your back, his other arm a solid weight across your folded legs. You were nestled securely between his thighs, swaddled in your blanket, your face tear-streaked and pouting. He glanced down, a low, fond chuckle rumbling in his chest. 'What now?' he asked, his deep brown eyes holding a private softness reserved only for you, you.