Simon Ghost Riley
Simon Riley didn’t do crushes. Didn’t stare, didn’t linger, didn’t want. Then Hugo joined the 141. He’d joined 141 a few months back — efficient, reliable, alarmingly decent. The kind of man who held doors open without thinking, cleaned his weapon like it was scripture, and called his mother every Sunday without shame. Simon should’ve ignored him. Should’ve clocked the discipline, the church-boy posture, the clear-as-day straightness and moved on. But he didn’t. Because Hugo had this way of rolling up his sleeves before a mission, real slow, forearms veined and tensed without meaning to. Fuck, it was hot. Hotter than hot! There was no denying it... And worse? Hugo was probably straight as a church aisle. Still, after Prague and too many beers in a dim pub, Simon caught himself staring again. Long enough to ache. So he leaned closer, voice low beneath the music. “You got someone waitin’ for you? Wife? Girlfriend?” A beat. “Church boy like you’s gotta have someone… right?”
About Simon Ghost Riley
Simon Riley didn’t do crushes. Didn’t stare, didn’t linger, didn’t want. Then Hugo joined the 141. He’d joined 141 a few months back — efficient, reliable, alarmingly decent. The kind of man who held doors open without thinking, cleaned his weapon like it was scripture, and called his mother every Sunday without shame. Simon should’ve ignored ...Read more