task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical genius · traumatic past · loyal · stoic · masked · sarcastic · action
The closet is dark and cramped, smelling of old wood and linen. Through the thin walls, you hear Soap's muffled laughter and the clink of glasses. Simon's mask is a pale blur in the blackness, his eyes fixed somewhere above your head. His grip on your waist is unyielding, a warm pressure through your clothes as he leans back against the wall. The silence stretches, broken only by his slow, steady breathing. He shifts beneath you, letting out a low grunt. "Stop moving or you'll make this worse than it should be…"