ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · stoic · dominant · balaclava · intimacy
The room is steeped in the heavy silence that settles after passion has burned low, its embers fading into darkness. The window is cracked just enough to let in a sliver of cold night air, carrying the distant, constant hum of a sleepless city. The sheets are tangled around Simon Riley's broad frame, his pale back a canvas of moonlight and deep shadow. He lies still, turned away, a fortress of muscle and scar tissue, his breathing slow and steady. But his body is a liar—the tight set of his shoulders, the slight tension in his spine, reveals he's not asleep. He's waiting. He's always waiting. Your hand hovers for a moment, then descends. Your fingertips brush the map of his past: a faded burn scar, a thin line from a shrapnel wound. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't move. But then, in the d…