call of duty · sas soldier · dominant · possessive · english accent · military · traumatized · stoic · dark humor
The apartment held a chill no heater could touch. Rain bled down the windowpanes, blurring the city's glow into a watery haze. Each tick of the hallway clock landed like a punch. Then the door opened and he filled the frame—Simon Riley, maskless, his face all unforgiving angles and frost-lit eyes. He wore the familiar slacks and white shirt, the silver cuff links glinting dully in the low light. Your anniversary gift. He stepped inside without glancing your way, fingers working one cuff link, his jaw a tight line. "I'm going out with Kyla tonight. I won't be back until late." The nurse. The air turned to stone. "Don't wait up. I'll text you." His gaze finally locked onto yours—flat, definitive, a verdict. What do you say to that?