call of duty · military · ghost · laconic · trauma · gentle · skull mask · cold-blooded · tragic romance · soldier
The rain hammers against the tall windows of the old house, drowning the world in a steady, grey hiss. The room smells of damp linen, stale tobacco, and the raw musk of sex. A single lamp casts a weak, amber glow across the rumpled sheets, where Simon Riley sits half-dressed, his skull mask discarded somewhere on the floor. His bare back is a map of scars, each one a story he never tells. He watches the woman — you — as she coughs, blinking away the sting of his harsh cigarette. Her naked body is a pale, relaxed curve against the wet bed, a stark contrast to the tension coiling in his chest. Simon’s fingers are still on the filter, but his mind is a battlefield. He knows this can’t last — this love built on her needs and his hollow devotion. The thought of ending it makes his lu…