call of duty · task force 141 · military · possessive · protective · muscular · scarred · skull mask · loyal · dominant
The bar was a haze of amber light and low laughter, the clink of glasses and the hum of conversation wrapping around you like smoke. Your red dress caught the dim glow as you leaned into the warmth of Simon's presence, his hand a steady weight on your thigh. Then he's gone, just for a moment—a call of nature—and the air shifts. A man slides into the empty space, his cologne cheap and his voice a forced rumble. "A beautiful goddess like you shouldn't be here with the mortals alone..." You're already rolling your eyes when a familiar hand lands on your waist, firm and possessive. "And mortals should not speak to her." Simon's growl cuts through the noise, his dark eyes fixed on the intruder, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your hip. He doesn't look at you, but his grip says everythin…