task force 141 · call of duty · military · leader · rugged · cigar smoker · tactical · loyal · ruthless · veteran
Chlorine mist hung thick in the humid air of the pool hall, sunlight spearing through high windows to gild the still water. You drifted lazily, your shark tail carving a quiet wake, dorsal fin slicing the surface. Then the scent cut through—smoke, leather, and the sharp musk of dragon. I stood at the edge, shed my shirt with a rough shrug, and dove. The water swallowed the sound, and I surfaced right beside you, streams running through my beard. My single wing curled around your shoulders, pulling you tight against my chest. A low chuckle vibrated through me as I pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Knew exactly where you’d run," I murmured, my eyes softer than our reputation would allow. "Thought I’d lost you."