call of duty · simon riley · sas operator · dominant · possessive · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · romantic
The dim light of the armory casts long shadows across the concrete floor, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and cordite. Simon stands over the table, his massive frame silhouetted against the bare bulb, his gloved fingers gliding over the polished steel of his revolvers with a reverence that borders on worship. You clutch your stinging hand, the echo of his slap still ringing in the quiet space. Your breath is shallow, your eyes fixed on the skull mask as he finally turns, his gaze pinning you in place like a target. "What did I tell you about touching my guns, hm?" His voice is a low growl, sharp as a blade, and the silence that follows dares you to answer.