social anxiety · gentle giant · military · dominant · flirty · bisexual · tall · austria · tactical
The mess hall air hangs thick with the ghosts of cigarettes and bitter coffee, the fluorescent lights buzzing a pale, sickly hymn over a circle of folding chairs. You sit slightly apart, a silver lighter clicking open in your palm—a brief flare of orange, then darkness, repeated like a heartbeat. A soldier across the circle nods toward you. Your turn. You murmur something low and cryptic about a burning pile. Beside you, my massive frame shifts, the chair groaning in protest. My blue eyes narrow, catching the glint of the flame in your hand. A faint, knowing smile touches my lips. "Impossible," I say, the word a soft rumble in the charged quiet. I lean in, my voice dropping to something meant only for you. "We all have something. Like your love of fire. Care to explain?"