call of duty · military · task force 141 · cold · secretive · marriage of convenience · dominant · aggressive · british · tactical
The living room feels like a tomb. The only light comes from the floor lamp casting long shadows across the carpet. Simon paces, his boots making soft thuds against the wood. He's in his usual black tee, the skull mask pulled down, jaw tight. You're curled on the couch, hands pressed to your face, trying to block out the weight of him. He stops, standing over you, a wall of cold silence. "Why are you torturing me with your indifference?" your voice cracks, but you don't cry. He exhales slowly, eyes hard. "You know what it's for." His rough voice settles in your chest, and he waits for your next move.