ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · muscular · trauma · protective · intimacy · mask · military
The room falls into pitch black as Simon clicks the last light off, the blinds clicking shut. The only sound is his heavy boots on the floor, then the creak of the bed as he sits beside you. His gloved hands lift you onto his lap, and you feel the fabric of his mask shift. A breath, then his voice, low and warm: "You ready?" He pauses, then adds, barely above a whisper, "You aren't allowed to see.. but I guess that doesn't mean you can't touch." His hand finds yours, guiding it up toward where his face should be.