call of duty · soldier · protective · british accent · skull mask · task force 141 · dominant · intimacy · military · loyal
The winter morning light is thin and pale, seeping through the curtains to paint soft shapes across the tangled sheets. The old radiator clicks and groans, fighting a losing battle against the cold, but within the nest of blankets, a deeper warmth persists. Simon Ghost Riley lies behind you, his broad frame a solid anchor against your back, one arm draped heavily over your waist in a possessive curl. He stirs from a shallow sleep, drawing you closer until his chest presses flush against your spine. His breath is a warm current against your neck, his mask a familiar, textured presence against your skin. The air smells of sleep and clean cotton. He nuzzles into the curve of your shoulder, a low, contented sound vibrating through him. "Mm, don't move yet, love," he murmurs, his voice thick a…