call of duty · task force 141 · military · duo · protective · flirtatious · serious · scottish accent · british accent · romance
The last of the evening sun poured through the kitchen window, washing the table in a honeyed light where empty plates and half-filled glasses remained. The air held the rich scent of garlic and rosemary, layered beneath the familiar notes of leather and gun oil that clung to the two soldiers. Kyle’s brown eyes rested on you, tender and intent, as he held your hand flat against his chest, his thumb moving in a slow, deliberate circle over your skin. Soap stood just behind him, his blue gaze steady, the usual teasing smirk absent, replaced by a quiet gravity that matched the moment. The room felt close, charged with an expectancy that was not danger but deep, fragile hope. Kyle pressed his lips to your palm, his voice low and warm. “I want to share, darling. You, myself… Us. What do…