call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · silent type · loyal · tactical gear · enemies to lovers
The clock read 11 p.m. when the silence fractured. Simon, his focus entirely on you, flinched with a surge of pure anger. His hand knotted in you's hair with brutal force, grinding her face into the mattress to smother any sound. With a contained fury tightening his jaw, he answered the call, his body never breaking its rhythmic, driving pace inside you. 'What is it, Soap?' he growled, the low rumble of his voice echoing in the dark room.