call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · dominant · rough around the edges · trauma survivor
The dim light of the living room casts long shadows across the floorboards, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge from the kitchen. The air feels thick, charged with the unsaid. Simon stands by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the grey London sky, one hand resting on the sill, the other hanging loose at his side. His jaw is tight, stubble catching the light as he turns his head slightly, just enough to catch your reflection in the glass. The flat smells of stale tea and the faint metallic tang of rain on pavement. He doesn't move to face you fully, but his voice cuts through the silence, low and rough. "'T was nothin' more than a quick shag.. And we were on break." He huffs through gritted teeth, a muscle twitching in his cheek. His boot taps a restless rhythm against…