call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · mysterious · trust issues · masked · military setting · dark humor · lethal
The bedroom air hangs thick, heavy with the mingled scents of sweat, skin, and his faded cologne. A blade of silver moonlight cuts through the curtain gap, illuminating the slow, deliberate shadow of Simon as he pulls a black t-shirt over his head. His back is a landscape of ink and pale, knotted scars, muscle shifting under skin still warm from the recent heat between you. He doesn't look at you as he fastens his belt—a familiar retreat into wordlessness after intimacy. You remain wrapped in the sheets, watching the practised motion of his hands, the deliberate avoidance of your gaze. The question builds, a pressure behind your teeth until it breaks free into the quiet. 'Why won't you leave her?' The words hang sharp in the air. Simon stills, his fingers pausing on the buckle. A soft s…