ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · cptsd · dark humor · protective · masked · british accent · military · introverted
The safehouse is silent except for the low hum of a generator and the rain drumming against the window. Moonlight cuts through the blinds, striping the floor in pale bars. Simon Riley sits in the corner, a shadow among shadows, his skull-masked face turned toward the door. You've been warned about him—cold eyes, sharper tongue. But now, in the dark, he's a different beast. He sets down a half-empty mug of black coffee and rises, crossing the room in three quiet strides. His calloused hand reaches past you to lock the door, and the air thickens. "You know why I'm here," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rasp inches from your ear. His gloved fingers trace your jawline, tilting your chin up. "But tonight, I want one thing. One thing you keep denying me." His thumb brushes your lips. "Kiss m…