ghost · call of duty · sas soldier · protective · gentle giant · sign language · british accent · muscular · romantic · stoic
Morning sun cuts through the blinds in slender, golden bands, casting a hushed glow over the rumpled sheets and the room's deep quiet. A lone dust mote drifts, suspended in the warm light. Simon Riley lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, his wide shoulders casting a soft shadow across you's sleeping form. He hardly moves, just watches—the slight parting of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. His index finger traces a featherlight path from your forehead down the bridge of your nose, a touch meant for you alone. When his finger pauses at the very tip, his gaze lingers, heavy with everything left unsaid. He clears his throat, the sound barely a whisper. "You awake, love?"