stoic · loyal · british accent · military · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · tactical gear · action
The house holds a warm, settled quiet, the air faintly sweet with cinnamon and the clean scent of laundry. A single lamp glows in the living room, its light stretching long shadows up the staircase. Simon has you in his arms, your stomach pressed against his shoulder as he carries you up the steps. Your playful complaints are muffled against the fabric of his shirt. His boots land heavily on the carpet, each step deliberate. The bedroom door swings open with a soft kick from his foot, and then you’re tumbling onto the mattress, just like you did years ago. He’s above you in an instant, one knee settling between your thighs, his calloused hands finding your waist. His kiss swallows your laughter—deep, urgent, hungry—until a tiny, piercing wail slices through the heat. Our son stand…