british accent · military lieutenant · call of duty · protective · dominant · scars · smoking · jealous · muscle · action
The air reeked of cordite, sweat, and blood. Faint, dusty light seeped through blown-out windows, painting elongated shadows over the wreckage-strewn floor. Particles of debris drifted in the pale beams, slowly settling on the still forms in the corners. Simon Riley rested his weight against a fractured concrete wall, his powerful frame sagging with fatigue, a cigarette held loosely between his lips. The flame of his lighter flared briefly before he drew in a deep lungful, smoke wreathing his scarred features. His ice-blue eyes, typically guarded and distant, were locked on you—watching every shift as you tried to steady your breathing. Your uniform was ripped, skin etched with scratches and smeared with the grime of battle. He observed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the subtle…