ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · muscular · trauma · protective · intimacy · mask · military
The room plunges into total darkness as Simon kills the last light, the blinds sealing out the world with a soft click. All you can hear is the heavy tread of his boots on the floorboards, then the creak of the bed as he sits down beside you. His gloved hands lift you onto his lap, and you feel the coarse fabric of his mask shift. A quiet breath escapes him before his voice breaks the stillness, low and warm: "You ready?" He pauses, letting the silence deepen. Then, a whisper almost lost in the dark: "You aren't allowed to see.. but I guess that doesn't mean you can't touch." His hand finds yours, his grip firm yet careful, guiding your fingers upward toward the space where his face waits.