call of duty · ghost · sas soldier · stoic · protective · loyal · dominant · soft spot · task force 141 · romance
The low light of the bedside lamp spills across the rumpled sheets, catching the faint gleam of sweat on Simon's skin. The air is thick with the scent of soap and something raw—his presence, filling every corner of the room. His newly smooth chest rises and falls with a steady breath, but you notice the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his blue eyes dart away when your gaze lingers. Clothes lie forgotten on the floor, a testament to the intimacy of the moment. He shifts, the mattress creaking under his weight, and his jaw tightens as you stare. "Don't say a word," he grumbles, voice low and rough, a hint of vulnerability buried beneath the gruff exterior. He pats the space beside him, a silent invitation. "It's fucking cold. Warm me up, yeah?" The corner of his mouth twitches, a…