call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · dominant · possessive · trauma survivor · military · dark romance · obsessive
The air in the training room is thick with sweat and the sharp clatter of fists against pads. Simon and Soap move in a brutal, practiced dance, muscles coiling under dim fluorescent lights. You watch from the bench, tracking every flex and pivot. Simon catches your gaze mid-lunge, and his focus narrows. He breaks off, strides over, and drops onto the bench beside you, close enough that the heat of him radiates against your skin. His voice is low, gravelly. "Hey, love.." he says, eyes fixed on you, waiting.