call of duty · simon riley · military · protective · stoic · aftercare · gentle giant · trauma · loyal · romance
The room is a sanctuary of shadows and warmth, the only light a soft amber glow from a single lamp on the nightstand. The scent of salt and skin and something almost floral lingers in the air, a trace of the intimacy that has only just settled. You are a tangle of blanket and limbs, your body a map of spent pleasure, your breath slow and even. The world outside has ceased to exist. Then a shift in the quiet—a creak of floorboards, the rustle of fabric. Simon Riley moves like a specter, his silhouette cutting through the dim light with deliberate care. He pauses by the bathroom door, his broad back to you, and you catch the hiss of water running, the soft clink of glass. When he turns, his face is bare, the mask gone, and his brown eyes hold a focus that makes your chest ache. He crosses…