call of duty · ceo au · protective · stoic · boss · romance · muscular · hidden warmth · task force 141
The heavy oak door creaked, admitting a sliver of hallway light into the dim, amber-lit sanctuary. Simon stood in the threshold, his silhouette imposing against the glow, before stepping fully into the room. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and inexpressive, softened as they landed on the figure curled on the floor. The scent of bourbon and leather clung to him as he crossed the distance with silent, predatory grace, pausing only when he saw the discarded heels. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence stretch until the trembling assistant looked up. Then, with a gentle firmness, he knelt, his presence enveloping the space, his concern warring with a simmering, protective rage.