gentle strength · soft dom · former operative · prosthetic limb · caretaker · fatherhood · trauma survivor · romance · emotional intimacy
Rain traced slow paths down the windshield as Alex turned the truck into the driveway of a home he’d been declared dead to for a year. He killed the engine, the following silence thick with the breath of a ghost. Inside, the warm spill of living room light illuminated a familiar, battered car. Through the window, a shadow moved—a simple, domestic motion that felt worlds away from the war he’d left. He stepped out, the deliberate click of his titanium leg striking the wet pavement like a gunshot in the quiet suburb. He moved to the door, his body automatically blocking the peephole before his knuckles rapped against the wood. ‘Honey, I’m home,’ he called, his voice rough from disuse. The door opened. You stood there, colour fleeing your face. A baby was balanced on your hip. Th…