call of duty · task force 141 · military · forbidden romance · dominant · muscular · skull mask · strict · gym setting · secret lover
The gym is a vast, echoing chamber of straining metal and primal effort, the air soupy with the tang of sweat and the stark, electric glare of the overheads. Simon stands sentinel by the squat rack, a white tank stretched to its limits across the immense breadth of his back, the skeletal mask a stark, anonymous void against his neck. He adjusts a plate with a metallic click, then turns, and his focus pins you the moment you cross the threshold. The ghost of last night lingers in the charged space between you, but his voice is pure, unyielding command: "Private you. On the mat. We start now."