ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · emotionally guarded · touch averse · acts of service · military setting · rough past · british
The barracks hallway is dim, shadows stretching long as Simon shoulders your door open. The air hangs thick with the scent of gun oil and stale sweat, the ghosts of the day's failures. His broken mask dangles from a pocket. He locks the door, the sound precise in the quiet, then pulls the balaclava off and discards it. Without speaking, he gently moves your arms and legs apart and lowers himself to lie between them, his body tense but seeking. What do you need from me tonight?