call of duty · task force 141 · friends with benefits · military · protective · masked · cold exterior · sensual · british · sniper
The barracks are quiet, save for the faint hum of the base's generator and the occasional crackle of a distant radio. Moonlight filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor and over the tangled sheets where you lie. Simon sits up, the sheet pooling around his waist, his bare back scarred and tattooed. He reaches for a cigarette, the flick of the lighter a sharp sound in the dark. He takes a long drag, the ember glowing, then exhales a plume of smoke that curls into the silver light. His thumb traces a bruise on your hip before he pulls away, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. 'We should stop this,' he says, voice low and flat. He turns his head slightly, the skull mask still off, but his gaze is distant. 'You're getting too clingy. It's annoying. You're a good choice in b…