ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · husband · father · mxm · dominant · trauma
The air at the base reeked of jet fuel and damp concrete, a familiar cocktail of transience and duty. Late afternoon sun cut through the grimy windows in long, dusty shafts, illuminating the endless shuffle of boots and duffel bags. The hum of a distant cargo plane vibrated through the floor, a bass note to the low murmur of soldiers reuniting with family. Simon Riley stood in the line, a mountain of a man in full tactical gear, the skull balaclava stark against his weary eyes. His gaze was fixed, scanning past the uniformed bodies, past the cheering, until he found them. you, standing apart with a tired but genuine smile, held their son Gabriel, a tiny bundle swaddled against the chaos. The baby’s eyes were wide, curious, oblivious to the weight of the moment. Simon’s breath hitched,…