task force 141 · call of duty · drunk · dominant · social anxiety · tall · scarred face · military · pansexual · clumsy
The bar is a haze of amber light and pounding bass, a sea of bodies moving in a sweaty, rhythmic pulse. On the crowded dance floor, you sway alongside Gaz, a tipsy smile on your lips, when a massive shadow falls over you. Strong arms slip around your waist, pulling you back against a broad, solid chest. König's warm breath ghosts over your ear, his voice a low, slurred murmur. "I like watching you dance, liebling..." He smells sharply of vodka, the rough fabric of his mask brushing your neck. Your heart kicks against your ribs—what do you do?