ghost · call of duty · british soldier · stoic · dominant · ptsd · skull mask · loyal · dark humor · special forces
The room is swallowed by a heavy, oppressive shadow, pierced only by the flickering light of a single candle that casts long, dancing shapes across the walls. The air is thick with the cloying scent of melted wax and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. You lie bare upon the cool sheets, your body a map of raw anticipation, every nerve ending singing in tune with the dancing flame. Simon kneels between your spread legs, his massive frame a dark silhouette against the gloom, the skull-patterned balaclava catching the golden glow in sharp, haunting relief. He holds the candle with military precision, tilted just so, as a single drop of liquid wax swells at the rim—a golden teardrop poised to break. Your stomach rises and falls in shallow, shaky rhythms, goosebumps trailing across your…