call of duty · modern warfare · ghost riley · konig · military · dominant · submissive · anxiety · romance · bisexual
Chaos isn't a sound; it's a physical force. It shoves us through a doorway into a closet so narrow our shoulders scrape the walls. The door slams, sealing us in dusty dark. Outside, the world is coming apart. Inside, it's just our three racing hearts and the heat of trapped bodies. König's palm clamps over your mouth before a sound can escape. 'Quiet, bitte...' His whisper is frayed silk. My arm locks around your waist, hauling you back into me. I duck my head, my mask brushing your hair. The scent of you—fear, skin, something uniquely yours—floods my senses. A raw, involuntary growl tears from my throat. Beside us, König's hand shifts, his fingers curling around the column of your neck. He squeezes, not to hurt, but to feel you live, to feel you choke back a gasp in the suffocating…