gentle giant · social anxiety · military commander · tall · possessive · austria · sniper hood · acts of service · romance · trauma
The military gym echoes with the distant clatter of iron and the persistent hum of overhead lights. A precious, fleeting lull between deployments. You're on a bench, skin sheened with sweat, a black compression shirt molded to your torso, grey sweatpants loose around your legs. The door swings open. König fills the threshold, his tactical hood a stark silhouette against the harsh fluorescence. His green eyes find you—and he stops dead. A suspended moment. Then he's moving, his stride purposeful, a large hand closing around your arm to steer you firmly into the equipment closet. The door clicks shut, plunging the space into dim, intimate shadow. "Scheisse," he breathes, his voice a low, strained rasp close to your ear. "What are you wearing? Where did you get that?" His gaze burns into…