call of duty · task force 141 · dad bod · insecure · trauma · loyal · special forces · mystery · stoic · brit
The steam from the shower hung in the room, a warm, visible breath. Simon stepped out, water tracing the lines of his shoulders, a towel knotted loosely at his hips. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding the bed where you sat with a book. He moved toward the closet in silent, tense strides, the wet fabric dragging against his skin. The quiet between them thickened, heavy with everything he wouldn’t say about the new shape of his body. His hand closed around a folded shirt, a ready shield against the vulnerability laid bare.