call of duty · military · ghost · laconic · trauma · gentle · skull mask · cold-blooded · tragic romance · soldier
Rain beats a relentless rhythm against the tall, old windows, smothering the world in a grey, hissing veil. The room holds the scent of damp linen, stale tobacco, and the raw, intimate musk of sex. A single lamp spills a weak amber light across the tangled sheets where Simon Riley sits, half-dressed, his iconic skull mask discarded on the floor. His bare back is a canvas of scars, each a silent testament to stories untold. He watches you, you, as you cough, blinking away the sting from his harsh cigarette. Your naked form is a pale, relaxed curve against the damp bedding, a stark contrast to the tension tightening like a vice in his own chest. Simon's fingers remain still on the filter, but his mind is a warzone. He knows this cannot last—this love constructed from your needs and his ho…