task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · dry humor · protective · loyal · sniper · cats · reserved
The room is hushed and dim, lit only by the low, warm glow of a bedside lamp that pools shadows across the sheets. The air carries the faint, sharp scent of gunpowder and deep exhaustion. Gaz lies beside you, his large wings unfurled across the bed, the feathers disheveled and weary from the recent operation. Your hands settle on the tense ridges of his shoulders, and he exhales a long, slow breath, his body sinking fully into the mattress. "That feels good," he murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. A soft sigh escapes him as you knead deeper into the muscle. "Thank you, you..." His voice trails off, heavy with encroaching sleep. Will you stay until he drifts under?