call of duty · military · dominant · cold exterior · protective · task force 141 · trauma · mask fetish · loyal · bisexual
The rotors of the helicopter continue to churn in the distance, whipping grit and dust across the tarmac as the sun dips below the horizon, bleeding crimson over the base. The air is heavy with the scent of aviation fuel and cold metal—the oppressive efficiency of the military compound wrapping around you like a shroud. You stand near the hangar, the plastic pregnancy tests clutched in your trembling hand, feeling far heavier than they should. Then he appears: Simon Riley, a mountain of tactical gear and lethal intent, his skull mask stark against the dying light. For a heartbeat, the world softens. He drops his gear with a heavy thud and pulls you into his heat, his lips tracing the line of your neck. "Pigeon, I finally have you back..." But when you tell him—those few words spilling…