call of duty · ghost riley · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · dominant · possessive · jealous · military setting · protective
A sliver of pale light from the corridor cuts across the darkened floor of your quarters. The room holds the quiet, familiar scent of you—soap, fabric, and a hint of something sugary. Simon Riley steps inside, the heavy tread of his boots the only sound. He pulls the skull mask from his face, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair as his eyes sweep the empty space. They land on the chocolate bar resting on your pillow. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touches his lips. He picks it up, breaks off a piece, and lets the rich flavor settle on his tongue. Then he turns the wrapper, and his body goes rigid. His brown eyes snap wide, fixed on the small print. "Bloody hell..." he whispers, the word hanging in the still air. The door behind him creaks open. He looks up, caught utterly…