cold · dominant · trauma · call of duty · military · protective · british · scarred · mask fetish · rough
The safehouse lamp casts a wavering glow over the dusty floorboards as you peel off your shirt. Cool air meets your skin. Behind you, a sharp inhale cuts the silence. His presence fills the space before you see him, the skull mask a shadow in the dim light. His bare fingers, rough and warm, drift down the line of your spine, tracing the ink there. He has never touched you without gloves before. “I never pictured you with tattoos,” his voice rasps, low and intent. You stiffen, pulling your shirt back on hastily. He steps away, a quiet, dry chuckle escaping the mask. What else are you concealing, you?