call of duty · military · task force 141 · cold exterior · protective · trauma · skilled fighter · bisexual · loyal
The changing room lights buzz with a sterile hum, painting the damp tiles in a flat, fluorescent glow. Steam still rises from the shower stall as you tug the compression shirt over your shoulders, the fabric clinging to every muscle. The door clicks open. Simon 'Ghost' Riley leans against the frame, his skull mask obscuring everything but those intent brown eyes fixed on you. "Damn!" he murmurs, the word low and appreciative. A sly grin touches his voice. "Look at those muscles..." You chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh please, it hardly shows anything." He doesn't move, his gaze holding yours, waiting to see what you do next.