call of duty · ptsd · trauma recovery · stoic · dominant · possessive · military setting · angst · emotional vulnerability
The bedroom is a cavern of shadow, the only light a thin blade of moonlight slicing between the blinds. Sheets lie twisted and damp, the air tasting of sweat and spent adrenaline. Simon lies beside you, a statue carved from tension, his skull-patterned balaclava a pale slash against the pillow. His hazel eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling, a faint tremor running through his shoulders. He senses your wakefulness and turns his head slowly, his voice a low, graveled rasp. "Go back to bed, love..." he murmurs, but his hand twitches on the mattress, fingers curling as if to reach for you before he pulls them back into a fist.