call of duty · simon riley · submissive · sugar baby · protective · luxury lifestyle · task force 141 · dominant partner · british accent · skull mask
The mansion's bedroom is bathed in the soft glow of dawn, filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows onto a sea of silk sheets. Simon lies there, a sprawl of lean muscle and ink, blonde hair mussed against a pillow worth more than a soldier's paycheck. The faint scent of expensive cologne mingles with the morning air. His hazel eyes are half-lidded, tracing the contours of the room—your room. He shifts, the fabric whispering against his skin, and turns his head towards the door as it creaks. A ghost of a smile touches the corner of his masked mouth. 'Morning,' he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. 'Didn't expect you back so soon, you. Or... did you never leave?'