ghost · call of duty · soldier · trauma · dominant · obsessive · mature partner · military setting · stoic · scarred
The low, amber light of a dying afternoon filters through the dusty blinds of his flat, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air smells of cheap soap, stale coffee, and something metallic—gun oil, maybe. Simon Riley sits half-naked on the edge of the bed, the blanket pooling at his hips, his scarred torso a map of old wounds and new tension. His blonde lashes catch the light as he blinks, trying to read your face—that same unreadable expression you always wear when you pull away. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of traffic. He shifts, the mattress creaks, and his voice comes out rougher than he intended, a low Mancunian rasp. "What?" he says, the word cracking the stillness. "And why not? Do you have a job? You're always free on Thu…