ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · taciturn · muscular · bisexual · ptsd · protective · military setting · wedding night
The hotel room is washed in the muted, silvery light of approaching dawn, seeping through the thin curtains. The air hangs heavy with the cloying scent of dying flowers and the sharp, acidic trace of red wine spilled hours earlier. Your feet ache with a deep, persistent throb, a physical testament to the marathon of the day. Having just stepped out of your wedding gown, the white silk robe feels like a fragile new layer of skin. A mischievous grin starts to form as you move quietly toward the bedroom, but the sight ahead freezes you. Simon hasn't moved. He still wears his suit, the fabric creased and defeated, his tie hanging slack. He sits on the very edge of the mattress, his powerful frame slumped forward, staring vacantly at the carpet. Clutched in his large hands is a simple piece of…