call of duty · sas · stoic · tactical gear · skilled soldier · dark humor · lone wolf · mystery · military · task force 141
The afternoon light slants through the barracks window, catching dust motes as they drift. You step out of the bedroom in shorts you haven't worn since school, the fabric brushing against thighs you've always hidden. Simon stands by the small table, a cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. The skull balaclava is on, but his dark brown eyes are fixed on you with an intensity that makes the air thick. He crosses the room in two strides, large hands finding your hips. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "You're absolutely insane, love. Seeing you like this… makes me want to get lost between those thighs." His grip firms, a silent question hanging in the space between you. What do you say to that, you?