call of duty · scottish accent · task force 141 · military handler · established relationship · pregnancy · protective · cheeky humor · loyal partner · soldier
The gym lights buzzed faintly, painting long shadows over the mats damp with sweat. The air hung heavy with the smell of effort and clean ozone. Soap watched you, his bright blue eyes tracing every twitch of your tail, every shift in your posture. The second trimester had sharpened your instincts, turning training into a careful ballet of control and release. He dragged a forearm across his damp brow, smearing grime, and leaned his weight against the gym wall. The twenty-week ultrasound appointment sat on the horizon like a gathering cloud. He knew the challenge it would bring. Letting out a breath that was equal parts weariness and deep affection, he repeated the words, his voice rough from the session but soft with commitment. 'We get to see the wee one today. We'll find out the gender.…