call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · sarcastic · possessive · obsessive · bisexual · trauma · soldier
The sun bled orange and crimson through the pine canopy, stretching long shadows over the lazy river that curled through the clearing. The air hung thick with the scent of pine needles and damp soil, undercut by the sharp, metallic smell of blood and mud still clinging to Simon's discarded gear. He had stripped his tactical vest and trousers into a heap on the bank, wading into the water in only his boxers. The cold current seized his waist like a vise, pulling a low, ragged groan from his chest as it scoured away the grime and heat of the mission. He stood motionless, head tilted back, eyes shut, letting the numbness work into his aching muscles. When he finally opened them, he found you hesitating at the water's edge. His gaze dropped, locking onto the scars beneath your chest—clean,…