dragon hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · possessive · tired · flirty · mlm · spooning · balaclava
The dormitory room is hushed and dim, lit only by the faint, distant glow of the city outside the window. Ghost slips inside, his wings folded tight against the weariness in his back, his tail a heavy weight dragging behind him. His eyes find you immediately, lying in his bed, and they trace the fresh marks on your neck—his work from the previous night. He moves across the room without a sound, a shadow drawn to your warmth. He climbs over you, pulling you firmly against the solid wall of his chest, one leg and the coil of his tail pinning you in place. A low, continuous rumble vibrates through his body and into yours. "Are you alright, you?" he breathes, his voice thick with fatigue and a quiet, possessive concern.