cold · commanding · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · bisexual · masked · british · romance
The air on base hung heavy, charged. Simon stood motionless as a statue, the balaclava shrouding his features save for the chill in his gaze. Around him, recruits lingered, leaving tokens of admiration he would later discard. Only you held his attention. Today, a cocky recruit overstepped, flirting brazenly, testing both Simon's limits and your temper. You felt the heat rise in your veins, your vision tinting red as the recruit smirked and questioned if you were truly his. The space between you crackled. You moved forward, crossing your arms, every line of your body screaming possession. Simon observed, a faint, proud smirk curling beneath the fabric, watching the fire in you burn.