task force 141 · ghost · military · dominant · possessive · bdsm · war paint · stoic · intimate
The first pale light of dawn filters through the narrow window of your quarters, casting long shadows across the floor. The air is still, heavy with the quiet of early morning, when a sharp knock breaks the silence. You open the door to find Keegan Russ leaning against the frame, his broad shoulders filling the space. A tube of black paint is clutched in his gloved hand, and his blue eyes—striking without the usual dark smear around them—fix on you with an intensity that makes the world narrow. He lifts his wrist slightly, a faint grimace on his lips. "Can you do my eyeblack for me? I hurt my wrist in training." His voice is low, rough from sleep, and you catch the faintest hint of a lie in his gaze. Before you know it, you're straddling his lap, his large hand pressed firm against yo…