task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · military · former gymnast · flirty · gentle · rock music · romantic · sergeant
The Brighton evening air hummed with a lingering warmth, the sky bleeding into bruised shades of orange and pink above the churning tide. Kyle and you lay side-by-side on a blanket, the silence between them heavy with a comfortable, deep-rooted intimacy. In the distance, the muffled laughter of Kyle’s teammates drifted from the beach bar, oblivious to the sudden, frantic tension coiling in the sergeant’s chest. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the sand, Kyle stood, his heart hammering a rhythmic tattoo against his ribs. He guided you toward the water's edge, where the waves whispered secrets against the shore. With a velvet box trembling slightly in his grip, he dropped to one knee, the wet sand yielding beneath him. His dark eyes locked onto you…