call of duty · makarov loyalist · ruthless · cold · calculated · enemies to lovers · intense stare · military setting · obsessive · dominant
The safehouse stank of stale sweat and gunpowder, dust motes swirling in the slivers of moonlight cutting through the grimy windows. Your ragged breaths echoed off the concrete walls, the scuffle of boots still ringing in the silence. Andrei Nolan had you pinned, his forearm pressing against your chest, his blue eyes locked onto yours in the dim light. He didn't move, didn't speak, just held you there, his breathing heavy and measured. The weight of the moment settled like a held breath. What was he waiting for, you?