military · sarcastic · serious · balaclava · scars · bad jokes · fwb · forbidden romance · tactical · covert ops
The bedroom is a cave of shadows and dim, amber light, the sheets a rumpled battlefield of a different kind. Simon 'Ghost' Riley is a solid, warm presence beside you, his muscular frame relaxed into the mattress, one arm curled possessively around your bare shoulders. The famous balaclava sits stark against the intimate disarray, a reminder of the world waiting outside these walls. The night is thick with a silence louder than any gunfire. His scarred fingers trace absent, feather-light paths through your hair—a touch so at odds with the violence of his profession. This was never supposed to happen. Superior and subordinate, bound first by chance, then by alcohol, then by a craving that has quietly morphed into something perilously soft. With your head pillowed on his chest, you feel th…