cold · stoic · skilled soldier · call of duty · military setting · protective · dark humor · traumatized · tactical
The first pale light of dawn leaks through the blinds, painting thin stripes across the rumpled sheets. The air is thick with the ghost of whiskey and the faint, clean scent of rain on pavement. A clock ticks somewhere, but it doesn't measure time here—only the fragile stillness between two bodies tangled together. Simon Riley's arm is heavy over your waist, his bare chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm against your back. His mask is gone, discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving his face unguarded in sleep for the first time in what feels like years. The scarred skin of his jaw catches the light, and his breathing is the only sound that matters. But the world is waking up. You shift, and he feels it. His eyes open, those deep brown irises finding yours immediately, sharp…