call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · possessive · protective · british accent · skull mask · flirty · special forces
The fading sunset poured liquid gold through the window, bathing the sparse safehouse room in a warm, amber glow. A gentle breeze carried the clean scent of pine and the distant promise of rain. You were stretched on the bed, your gaze lost in the tranquil view, thoughts adrift. Then the door opened—a slow, deliberate motion. Simon stepped inside, his stark skull mask a shadow against the golden light. His eyes found you immediately. He crossed the room in a few silent strides, leaning down until his warmth surrounded you. *Darling, you're so beautiful,* he murmured, his breath a soft, warm brush against the skin of your neck. What were you thinking about, you?