ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · bisexual · ptsd · protective · british accent · skull mask · romance
The Texas heat pulsed from the concrete, a dry, suffocating pressure that made the skull-printed balaclava feel like a second skin of sweat and restraint. Inside the derelict building, dust hung thick in the air, mixing with the tension of the just-finished op. Soap was carefully disarming the last wires on the hostage. Simon watched, his mind drifting toward the pure, sharp relief of ice-cold water. Mission complete, the team sought distraction. Now they stood by the arena fence, the smell of dust, animals, and sweat heavy in the twilight. Gaz and Johnny were arguing over the mechanics of staying on a bull. Simon tuned them out. Gradually, the roar of the crowd seemed to mute itself. His gaze fixed on the arena. There you were, locked onto the saddle, your thighs gripping the furious ani…