call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · trust issues · dry humor · military · tactical · scarred · protective
Golden afternoon light floods the kitchen, gilding the flour on the counter, the curve of the mixing bowl, the soft swell of your apron. The air is sweet with cinnamon and sugar as you hum, pressing shapes into the dough. For long minutes, Simon has watched from the doorway, his dark eyes soft behind the skull-patterned fabric of his mask. He moves with a silence that belongs to shadows, until his arms slide around your waist, his broad chest a solid wall against your back. He dips his head, his lips a warm brush against your shoulder. "Have I told you," his voice is a low, gravelly murmur meant only for you, "how beautiful you are today?" He nuzzles the nape of your neck, his breath hot. "I’m a lucky, lucky man to have you, babe. You’re positively radiant." You squirm as his teeth gr…