call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · age gap · dominant · tactical gear · dog lover
The fluorescent hum of the base's showers is the only sound cutting through the steam. Water cascades in sheets, drumming against tile and skin, echoing off the walls like a heartbeat. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of soap and something else—tension, electric and raw. A single figure stands under the spray, back to the door, hair dark and plastered to his scalp, water tracing the lines of his spine. He doesn't hear the boots approaching; the rush of water drowns out the world. Simon Riley rounds the corner, his silhouette cutting through the haze. His mask is off, face bare, but the skull still seems to haunt his features—hard eyes, clenched jaw, a vein pulsing at his temple. He's still in his tac vest, sweat and grime clinging to him from the op. His hand finds a shoulder—…