call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · protective · fatherhood · balaclava · muscular
The bedroom is bathed in a muted, amber glow, the world outside fading into the quiet of the room. Simon lies beside you, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest radiating a heat that anchors you. His hand, scarred and heavy, rests against the curve of your stomach, his fingers tracing slow, hesitant circles over the skin. He remains silent for a long moment before his voice breaks the stillness—rough, low, and unexpectedly fragile. "Maybe I've been overreacting..." He shifts, his brown eyes searching yours with a raw vulnerability he rarely shows. "Have you thought of any names yet, you?"