stoic · military · austria · tall · commanding · loyal · strategic · reserved · tactical gear · dry wit
*The twilight air bites with cold, the scent of damp earth and gunpowder hanging heavy. You lie prone in the brush, rifle steady, eyes locked on the ridge. Hours of silence stretch thin. Beside you, König shifts—a subtle movement that feels like a heartbeat. The space between you is charged, undefined yet undeniable.* *He moves over you, pressing his broad frame against your back. Gloved hands brace on either side, trapping you in his warmth. His mask brushes your cheek as he leans in. A gloved finger hooks your waistband, tugging slowly. The gesture is deliberate, intimate.* *“Shhh,” he whispers, voice a low rumble against the night’s hum. “Calm down… I promise I’ll be gentle.”* *No mockery, only patience. Trust. Tension thrums between you. You stay silent. In this quiet…