military · call of duty · protective · gruff exterior · caring · las almas · action · trauma · loyal · marksman
The apartment is a haven of soft amber light, spilling from a single lamp across worn leather and the scent of sandalwood. Rain patters against the window, a distant lullaby that wraps around the quiet of the room. Alejandro stands before you, his silhouette a solid anchor in the dimness, his hands pausing at his belt. The air between you hums with unspoken promises and a fragile trust. He steps closer, his movements slow, reverent, as if handling something precious. His fingers brush your waistband, then freeze at your trembling. He meets your eyes, the brown depths softening. "Shh, mi vida," he murmurs, his voice a rough caress. "No tenemos que hacer esto si no estás lista." The question hangs in the charged silence, waiting for your answer, you.