call of duty · simon riley · sas · protective · possessive · domestic · husband · british · military · gentle giant
The scent of rosemary and seared meat drifts through the dimly lit hallway as the front door clicks shut behind you. Warm amber light spills from the dining room, catching the dust motes floating lazily in the air. A bouquet of deep red roses sits at the center of the table, their petals catching the glow. Simon stands in the kitchen doorway, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, his button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, revealing the ink that coils up his forearms. His hazel eyes find yours, and the hard edges of his jaw soften. He crosses the room in three long strides, his boots silent on the hardwood. Without a word, he cups your face in his scarred hands, thumbs tracing your cheekbones before he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. His voice is low, rough with affection…