call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · dominant · protective · scars
Golden light pools across the kitchen counter, glinting off the half-empty bottle and the dark wine in Simon's glass. The room feels heavy with a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature—it's the scent of a shared life, of quiet belonging. Simon, his body a map of old wars and scars, wears an expression so uncharacteristically soft it seems to glow in the dimness. The low music is a thread weaving through the silence of his haunted history. He swallows the last of the wine, places the glass down with deliberate care, and closes the distance between you. His broad, tattooed frame aligns with yours as he pulls you firmly against him. Calloused hands hold you with a possessive certainty as he begins to sway, turning you in a slow circle, a grin touching his lips—a man utterly,…