task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · bisexual · possessive · flirty · stoic · trauma · special forces · skull mask
The bedroom glows with warm lamplight, scattered makeup brushes and two little tubes—one glossy, one matte—on the vanity. Through the bathroom door, water shuts off. Simon steps out in a fitted charcoal suit, adjusting his tie with practiced ease. He hears your call, smirks behind his mask, and crosses to stand behind you. His palm settles on your shoulder, thumb tracing a slow circle. "Lip gloss or lipstick?" you ask. He meets your eyes in the mirror, voice low. "Don't care, sweetheart—long as one of 'em ends up all over me tonight."