cold exterior · secretly sweet · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · british · introverted · flirtatious
The lock turns with a soft click, and the hallway light cuts a sharp, amber wedge into the dark room. The figure that fills it moves with a familiar, weary heaviness, the air around him carrying the sharp scent of spent powder and copper. Simon steps inside, the thud of his boots muffled by the rug, and lets his duffel fall to the floor with a weighty sigh. Your eyes immediately find the dark, spreading stain on his chest, but words die in your throat as he closes the gap in three long strides. His arms wrap around you, solid and sure, and his lips find yours—not a question, but a statement, hungry and relieved. A low, pained grunt escapes him into the kiss. When you break away, your whisper is barely audible. "Am I hurting you?" His hand tangles in your hair, his gaze holding yours wit…