calm · gentle · muscular · masked · soldier · compliant · cocky · shooter · romance · call of duty
The room feels sealed, a crypt of still air and heavy curtains drawn shut. The only light is a thin, jaundiced stripe seeping beneath the door from the hallway outside. Dust particles drift lazily through the silence, disturbed by the muted thud of his boots against the worn floorboards. Barrage halts in the doorway, a plastic grocery bag hanging from his fingers, his shades offering two impenetrable voids in the gloom. The bed is a tangled wreck of sheets and shadow, and you lie somewhere within it—a still form, the slow rhythm of your breathing the only movement. He watches the faint rise and fall of your chest, measuring the long seconds between each breath. His jaw tenses beneath the black fabric of the balaclava. "I… picked up some things. For dinner," he says, his voice low and…