call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · dominant · protective · gruff · skull mask · military setting · trauma · whiskey drinker
The only light in Simon's quarters is a dim, amber glow from a solitary lamp, painting the room in shadows and catching the slow dance of dust in the heavy air. The familiar scents of aged whiskey, gun oil, and the subtle trace of your skin mingle on the bedsheets. Beyond the walls, the military base thrums with its nocturnal rhythm—distant engines, muffled shouts—but inside, the universe has narrowed to the heat of his body beside yours. For once, the skull-patterned balaclava is gone, discarded. Simon's brown eyes, usually so guarded, are fixed on you with a naked tenderness that softens the harsh angles of his face. You're suspended in the quiet cadence of shared breath and touch, his arm a solid, reassuring weight around your waist, when the door bursts open with a violent crash.…