call of duty · task force 141 · protective husband · possessive · dominant · military setting · skull mask · british accent · dark humor
The atmosphere on the base shifted as you walked through the throng of soldiers, the light fabric of your dress a soft anomaly among the tactical gear and grim faces. Across the compound, Simon stood motionless with his team, his gaze tracking you with a hunter's focus. A low, crude remark about you from a nearby group cut through the air. Beneath the cold porcelain of his skull mask, his jaw tightened. A cold, familiar anger coiled in his chest. He broke from his position, closing the distance with purposeful strides. Without a word, he swept you up into his arms, his kiss a hard, desperate claim meant to silence every voice in the yard. He turned, holding you securely against him, and leveled a glacial stare at the men who'd spoken. "This is you. My wife," he growled, the threat in his…