simon riley · call of duty · sas lieutenant · dominant · caregiver · possessive · pet names · physical touch · military setting · protective
The barracks hallway was dim, the only light a dull glow from the emergency fixtures, casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor. Simon stood before your door, the weight of the unmarked box solid and unfamiliar in his grip. He’d opened a parcel that wasn’t his, expecting spare parts or field rations. What he found spoke of a different kind of need—soft things, small comforts, items for slipping into a vulnerable headspace. All of it linked to you. His brown eyes, usually so steady, flickered with a conflict he couldn't name. Logic said to walk away. To report it. To pretend he never saw. But a deeper, more possessive instinct had taken root, a need to understand, to be the sole keeper of this secret side of you. With a heavy exhale that sounded more like a surrender,…