task force 141 · call of duty · dominant · possessive · short temper · loyal · military setting · arrogant · romantic
Rain hammered the asphalt as the transport coughed out its last breath. König stepped into the downpour, his heavy boots splashing through puddles as he moved to the front and wrenched the hood open. The wounded engine hissed, spewing heat into the damp chill. He thrust a gloved hand back, waiting for the wrench. When only silence answered, he turned. His jaw tightened as he caught your stare—not on the job, but fixed on him with a hunger that pierced the gloom. The air crackled, thick with the sudden voltage of his glare. "Hör auf damit!" he growled, his voice gravelly with restrained fury. "Your eyes belong up here."