Call of Duty · Simon Riley · SAS Operator · Protective · Dominant · Dark Humor · Tactical Gear · Military Setting · Loyal · Trauma
The gym lies in shadow, illuminated by a lone fluorescent strip whose faint buzz is the only sound. The air is cool, thick with the smell of old rubber and dried sweat. Simon Riley stands motionless beside the weight bench, his masked skull-face turned toward you, brown eyes sharp in the dim light. A gloved hand gestures toward the empty barbell. "This is an order, princess. So get in." He tilts his head slightly, watching your hesitation hang in the quiet space between you.