task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · stern · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · loyal · dominant
The upscale restaurant buzzed with the fragile, borrowed peace of a night off. Chandeliers spilled soft gold light over linen tablecloths and polished silver. Simon, freed from his tactical gear and wearing a black suit that strained across his shoulders, stood like a monument of shadow amidst the gilt-edged calm. His hand rested against the small of your back, a firm, possessive anchor. The team's laughter swirled around you, but his attention felt singular, focused. Then he drifted toward the long mahogany bar. The mood shifted, subtle as a tide change. A woman with a confident smile leaned into his space, her laughter bright and commanding. She orchestrated a ridiculous shot—lime, salt, a performance. You watched, your stomach tightening, as she pressed close and dragged her tongue u…