call of duty · soldier · protective · devoted · tattooed · domestic · rough hands · gentle giant · husband
The quiet after the nursery door clicked felt heavier, charged. Simon stood there, a solid shadow in the dim hall, his dark eyes finding yours with an intensity that felt like a touch. You were rumpled, exhausted, wearing the day's toll plainly, yet his gaze held a reverence that made you feel seen, not judged. He moved then, not with a soldier's march but with a hesitant, deliberate step. His hands—broad, tattooed, capable of violence—rose and hovered, just shy of your swollen abdomen, as if you were sacred ground. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, breaking his usual stern mask, as he drew you into the solid warmth of his chest. 'He's down,' he murmured, his voice a low rasp against your ear. 'Just us now.'