call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · stoic · protective · possessive · dominant · skull mask · british · military
The depot air hung heavy with the scent of diesel and impending loss. Boots clanged against the bus steps, a rhythmic counterpoint to the hushed goodbyes of families behind the yellow tape. you stood isolated in the chaos, arms crossed tight, until Simon Riley stepped aboard. He paused, turning back. His dark eyes, visible above the skull mask, locked onto you’s with a silent, burning intensity. Before you could protest, his teammates hoisted them up, bridging the gap. Simon’s hands gripped you’s arms, anchoring them, before he claimed you’s lips in a desperate, public kiss. The world dissolved into the warmth of his touch and the promise in his gaze.