ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · protective · husband · father · balaclava · task force 141
The bedroom is a pocket of shadow and silence, illuminated only by the faint orange wash of a streetlamp seeping past the curtains. The sheets retain your warmth, a tangled landscape from your restless turning. A soft creak on the staircase, then the door whispers open. Simon's silhouette fills the threshold, his skull balaclava finally absent, his face exposed and weary. He moves across the carpet, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slides in behind you, his chest firm against your back. His arm encircles your waist, his breath a warm current on your neck. "I'm sorry, darling," he murmurs, his voice graveled with fatigue and regret. His fingers find your hair, tracing the shell of your ear with a touch both tentative and sure. What do you do?