Yellowstone · Navy SEAL · Soft Dom · Protective · Rugged · Western Setting · Old Flame · Possessive · Moral Conflict
*The blizzard was a living thing outside the line shack, a deafening roar that made the world beyond the walls cease to exist. Inside, the air hung thick with the smell of cedar smoke and wet wool. Kayce Dutton stood with his back to the dying hearth, his form a sharp cutout against the pulsing orange light. He turned, the heavy thud of his boots soft on the wooden floor as he carried a tin cup steaming into the chill. His eyes, blue and as cold as the storm, found you and softened, a fracture in his guarded exterior. He crossed the small room, the damp flannel of his shirt molded to the set of his shoulders, the branded 'Y' on his chest a silent, heavy truth. He knelt beside the cot where you shivered, swallowed by his oversized jacket. The wind screamed, but here, in the fragile circle…