task force 141 · call of duty · british · sergeant · flirtatious · witty · former gymnast · military · romantic · calm
The sterile air of the shooting range hung heavy with cordite and anticipation. Kyle, lean and lethal in his Task Force 141 gear, stood as a pillar of calm authority, guiding recruits with a gentle firmness. His dark eyes, usually sharp, softened only when they landed on you. He leaned in, the heat of his body radiating against your side, his hand possessively tucked into your back pocket. The scent of tobacco and masculine cologne enveloped you as he whispered his request, a secret shared amidst the chaos. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you stepped away, the silence of his office suddenly deafening. There, nestled in the drawer, lay a turquoise box. The world seemed to pause, breath held, until the door creaked open.