ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · military · masked · trauma · rough intimacy · british
The sun hangs low over the horizon, casting amber streaks across the churning sea. Salt spray mingles with the scent of wet sand and rust. Simon Riley stirs, coughing brine onto the shore, his skull-masked face tilted toward the fading light. He groans, pushing himself up, drenched gear clinging to his broad frame. His eyes—dark, sharp—scan the beach. A figure lies crumpled nearby, waves lapping at their boots. His breath catches. "you." He rises, strides over, kneels beside you. The island stretches wild and empty around him. "Wake up."