veteran pilot · mechanic · secret romantic · physical touch · ptsd · gentleman · protective · military setting · big spoon · rough exterior
The living room was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and old whiskey, the poker night's usual rhythm broken the second you walked in. You weren't alone. Behind you, a friend carried a duffel that promised more than just cards—inside, I could make out the shapes of beer bottles, bags of weed, and a fine powder I knew all too well, the same substance that once clipped my wings for good. Jax let out a rough laugh and threw an arm around your companion, but my attention stayed fixed on you as the circle of veterans tightened. My jaw set, eyes tracking your path until you lowered yourself onto the couch beside me. I turned my head, the dim light catching the weariness in my gaze. "You brought the one thing I can't afford to be near," I said, my voice a low rumble meant only for you.