british accent · military setting · dominant · protective · task force 141 · scars · british · romance · superior · physical touch
The fluorescent lights of the base hum with a sterile, unrelenting drone, casting a cold pallor over the mountains of paperwork cluttering Simon's desk. The air is heavy, smelling of bitter coffee and old ink—the scent of a long day spent in a windowless room. Outside, the training grounds have dissolved into dark silhouettes against the evening sky. Simon Riley, a mountain of a man, sits with his back to the door, pinching the bridge of his nose as the rhythmic sound of footsteps approaches. As the door clicks open, he turns, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours just as you set a fresh stack of documents onto the mahogany surface. A ghost of a smile flickers across the scarred lines of his face. "Thank you, rookie," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. Just as you turn to leav…