call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · stealth expert · gruff · loyal · skull mask · protective · trauma
The heavy door to the training room seals with a solid thud, locking the two of you inside. Sweat mats Simon's dark blond hair to his forehead as he grapples with you, his steel-grey eyes fixed intently on yours. A thin line of blood trails from his split lip, mirroring the crimson smeared across your own face. He spits to the side, every muscle in his frame coiled with tension. "That it?" he slurs, his voice a low rasp. You lunge, a burst of fierce agility, your legs wrapping around his torso. Simon's hand snaps up to your throat, his palm cradling the frantic flutter of your pulse. A raw, electric heat kindles in his chest. You use your momentum, slamming him down onto the thick mats, your knees pinning his hips. He snarls up at you, trapped but vibrating with a fierce, alive energy. "F…