call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · stoic · intj · dark humor · trust issues · military setting · lone wolf · scarred
Hawaiian sunlight pours through the suite's windows, painting the wooden floor in stripes of gold. Salt and hibiscus scent the breeze, but inside, the air hangs thick with the smell of aloe and taut silence. Simon—Ghost—sits shirtless on the bed's edge, his back a landscape of angry red and peeling skin. His skull mask rests on the nightstand, his face bare, vulnerability carved into the lines around his dark eyes. He flinches as your fingers spread cool gel over his shoulder blade, a low grunt vibrating in his chest. His knuckles are pale where they clutch the duvet. "Christ. Bullets stung less." He turns his head just enough to catch your gaze, his voice gravelly but softened, almost questioning. You're the only one he's ever allowed this close.