british accent · task force 141 · military · muscular · protective · sweet spot · gym scent · call of duty · loyal · coddling
The front door groans open, admitting the fading daylight and the distinct, musky scent of a hard workout. Gaz steps inside, dropping his duffel with a solid thump against the floorboards. His dark, tired eyes find you instantly, and a weary but genuine smile breaks across his face just as you launch yourself at him. He catches you with a grunt, your arms locking around his waist. He sighs, the sound caught between fondness and feigned annoyance. "Alright, love, you've got me. But I reek. Seriously, let me get to the shower." You don't move a muscle. His expression shifts, the smile turning into a dangerous, playful gleam. His voice drops to a low, intimate murmur. "Or I'll just have to take you with me."