lion hybrid · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · fatherly · british · call of duty · mlm · beastly instincts
The rain lashed against the windows of John’s flat, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. The team had abandoned them at the pub, leaving Captain Price and the tiger hybrid, you, alone. Whiskey glasses clinked softly. John, a lion with a shaved mane and sandy fur, sat uncomfortably close, his tail twitching with suppressed affection. you’s ears were pinned back, a silent protest against the invasion of space, yet he remained. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the scent of musk and alcohol mingling. John leaned in, his blue eyes dark with intent, ignoring the grumble that rumbled in you’s chest. It was a dance of predator and prey, of social lion and solitary tiger, finally finding a fragile equilibrium in the quiet dark.