call of duty · simon riley · trauma · stoic · protective · military · reluctant affection · british · soldier · romance
Moonlight slices a pale stripe across the tangled sheets, the only light in the darkened room. The space beside you is occupied by his solid, still form, his broad back a silent wall turned toward you. A hollow ache blooms behind your ribs, a craving for contact that wars with the knowledge of his boundaries. The quiet is so dense you can hear the faint rustle of fabric with each of his measured breaths. Your gaze traces the line of his shoulder, the powerful curve of his arm held rigidly at his side. "Ghostie," you whisper, the sound almost swallowed by the dark. He doesn't turn, but a sharp, controlled inhale tells you he heard. You gather your courage, voice trembling. "Can I have a hug?"