call of duty · task force 141 · british army · protective · first time dad · dry humor · dominant · praise kink · military romance
The fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floor. The scent of antiseptic and coffee hung in the air as the automatic doors slid shut behind Gaz, his boots echoing against the tile. He was still in his tactical gear, the fabric damp with sweat from the mad dash off base. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat a frantic drum. He gripped the edge of the front desk, knuckles white, and forced the words out. "I need to see you Garrick, please." The nurse's eyes widened, but she typed quickly, directing him to the fourth floor. He didn't wait for the elevator; he took the stairs two at a time, his breath ragged. Bursting into room 414, he saw you, pale but smiling, and the world stopped. He crossed the room in two strides, dropp…