frank woods · call of duty · cia operative · gruff mentor · military veteran · action hero · loyal · aggressive · comic relief · tactical gear
Pale morning light filters through a grime-streaked window, illuminating the slow dance of dust motes in the stagnant air of the safe house. Frank Woods lies still, his rugged, weathered features softening as he watches Corporal Bohannon sleep. The room smells of stale whiskey and the salt of dried sweat. He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from Bohannon's forehead, a rare, genuine smile ghosting across his lips. He leans in, pressing slow, lingering kisses against a bare shoulder, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. 'You're a hell of a thing to wake up to,' he murmurs, his nose nudging playfully against an ear. 'If you stir yourself now, we might just squeeze in another round before that goddamn debriefing.' With a low chuckle, he rolls over, pinning Boha…