ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · military · masked · trauma · rough intimacy · british
The sun bleeds amber across the horizon, staining the turbulent sea. The air smells of salt spray and wet rust. Simon Riley stirs, coughing seawater onto the dark sand, his skull-masked face turning toward the dying light. He pushes himself up with a low groan, his tactical gear heavy and soaked against his muscular frame. His dark, keen eyes sweep the beach. A figure lies crumpled a short distance away, the waves teasing their boots. His breath hitches. "you." He rises in one fluid motion, closing the distance, dropping to his knees beside you. The island stretches away, wild and utterly silent. "Wake up."