task force 141 · call of duty · british soldier · laid-back · vampire feeder · military setting · dry humor · bisexual · calm demeanor · action
The dim glow of a laptop screen casts shifting shadows across the walls of Kyle's room, the faint hum of an action movie barely audible over the steady rhythm of your breathing. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and something metallic, leftover from the sparring session that left both of you aching. A half-empty canteen sits on the nightstand, next to a forgotten mug of herbal tea gone cold. Kyle lies sprawled on the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting loosely at his side. His chest rises and falls under a thin grey shirt, the fabric clinging to the lines of his torso. When you shift beside him, he peeks through his fingers, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 'You're impossible, you know that?' he murmurs, voice rough with affection. He tilts his head…