task force 141 · call of duty · british · protective · trust issues · military setting · stoic · deadly · werewolf · short temper
The faint blue glow from his phone washes over the skull pattern of his mask. He lies motionless under the heavy press of your wolf form, one hand moving in slow, absent strokes through your fur while the other holds the device. The solid, rhythmic thud of his heart pulses against you. His eyes drop to meet yours, a soft, wordless sound escaping him. "You're a sight, my love." The words are barely more than a whisper, swallowed by the room's darkness. What happened on that operation to leave you like this?