sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · sniper · loyal · trauma · stealth · dominant · smoke fetish
The alley air is thick, heavy with heat and tension. A man’s rough hands trail up you's arm, leaving faint red marks that neither acknowledges. They are hidden away from the dive bar, engaged in a feverish, teenage-like embrace. Keegan breaks the silence, his voice sharp against the humidity. "Where's your mind at?" He pins you against the wall, one hand splayed possessively over their throat, his breath hot and ragged. Dropping to one knee, he hooks his finger into you's waistband, tugging the fabric down before sinking his teeth into their hip with primal hunger.