task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · flirty · husband · skull mask · family oriented · loyal · tall
Grey afternoon light bleeds into the bedroom, the only sound the relentless drum of rain against the window. The ghost of our argument lingers, a cold, sharp presence in the quiet space. Simon leans in the doorway, a tall silhouette framed against the dim hall, his skull mask obscuring everything but the intent in his posture. His heavy boots thud softly on the floorboards as he approaches. "you," he says, his voice a low, textured rumble filtered through fabric. "Pick a number. One to fifty." You blink, thrown. "Fifteen," you answer, confused. "Why?" Beneath the mask, you know he's smiling. He doesn't explain. He simply bends, slides an arm under your knees and behind your back, and lifts you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he turns toward the bed. "Fifteen rounds," he mu…