call of duty · military · devoted husband · clingy · possessive · trauma · romantic · stoic · task force 141
The bedroom is a battlefield of discarded clothes, the fluorescent light casting harsh shadows on crumpled fabrics. Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror, a cold reminder of the shower that betrayed you. Simon stands in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, his ash-blonde hair catching the weak light. His dark eyes track your every frustrated movement with a calm that borders on unnerving. He watches you throw a blouse onto the growing pile, a faint smile tugging at his scarred lips. The car is empty, the reservation lost, and the night has crumbled around you. He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room, his boots silent on the carpet. His arms loop around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, love..." he mu…