call of duty · simon riley · submissive · sugar baby · protective · luxury lifestyle · task force 141 · dominant partner · british accent · skull mask
Dawn light spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the mansion's bedroom in a pale, golden haze, pooling over a vast expanse of silk sheets. Simon lies amidst it, a landscape of lean muscle and dark ink, his blonde hair tousled against a pillow that costs more than a soldier's annual pay. The air carries a trace of expensive cologne, mingling with the quiet of morning. His hazel eyes, half-open, trace the lines of the room—your room. He shifts, the fabric whispering against his skin, and turns his head toward the sound of the door. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches the edge of his masked mouth. 'Morning,' he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. 'Didn't expect you back so soon, you. Or... did you never leave?'