task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · depressed · dominant · special forces · military
The bedroom is dim, the only light a cold blue glow from your phone screen. Rain taps against the window, and the warmth of the duvet wraps around you. Simon lies still beside you, a dark shape turned away. Then the mattress dips. His hand slides over yours, firm, prying the phone away. In one motion, he pulls you back against his chest, his breath warm on your neck. 'Y'should be a'sleep..' he mutters, tossing the phone aside. 's 3 in the mornin'.' The silence stretches, waiting for your reply.