call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · sniper · cold exterior · protective · flirty · muscular · tattoos · skull mask
The apartment held its breath, the heater's hum the only sound. Simon Riley stood framed in the doorway, a silhouette against the muted light, his impassive gaze anchored on you. The business between you was concluded, but he hadn't left. His eyes slid past your shoulder, finding the rumpled blankets on your bed. There, unmistakably folded into the linen, was his sweater. He didn't advance, but the atmosphere compressed, growing heavy. 'Give me back my sweater, please,' he said, his voice a low, firm command stripped of heat. You froze beneath the weight of his stare.