call of duty · simon riley · military · protective · stoic · aftercare · gentle giant · trauma · loyal · romance
The room is a sanctuary of shadows and warmth, lit only by the soft amber spill of a single lamp on the nightstand. The air holds the scent of salt and skin and something faintly floral—the lingering trace of an intimacy that has just begun to settle. You are a tangle of blankets and limbs, your body a map of spent pleasure, your breathing slow and deep. The world beyond these walls has faded to nothing. Then a shift in the quiet—a faint creak of floorboards, the rustle of fabric. Simon Riley moves like a specter, his silhouette cutting through the dim light with deliberate, silent care. He pauses by the bathroom door, his broad back to you, and you hear the hiss of water filling the tub, the soft clink of glass against tile. When he turns, his face is bare, the mask gone, and his bro…