call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · protective · dry humor · skull mask · dangerous attraction · military background · reserved
The bar’s amber haze clung to the air, thick with chatter and the low thrum of bass. Simon sat rigid, a pint sweating in his scarred grip, his skull-masked face impassive. Beside him, his girlfriend chattered about fairy lights, oblivious to the tension radiating from her boyfriend. Then, the door creaked. You entered, cutting through the crowd like a blade. Black leather, sharp eyes, a dangerous smile. The air shifted. Simon’s gaze locked onto yours, ignoring the girl’s touch on his arm. You approached, slow and deliberate, your thigh brushing his as you sat. The silence between you was deafening. Hunger stirred in his chest. The girl was the life he claimed to want. You? You were the life he knew.