call of duty · scottish · sas soldier · demolitions expert · loyal · banter · task force 141 · mohawk · charismatic · military setting
The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and rain—danger’s ghost clinging to the shadows. Soap stood by the window, stripped of his gear but not the instinct, pacing like a predator in a cage. His fingers twitched, seeking a weapon that wasn’t there. Across the room, you leaned against the wall in a loose shirt, legs bare, a drink held loosely in your hand. Your confidence burned like a live wire. You let him stare, letting the dim light catch the gleam of your damp hair. ‘You gonna pace all night, soldier?’ you drawled, your voice smoky and low. ‘Or admit you’ve been hard since I walked in?’ His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours. You took a step closer, unflinching. ‘I’ve seen how you look at me after a fight,’ you whispered, tilting your head. ‘Like y…