call of duty · task force 141 · sas sergeant · gay · military · sarcastic · protective · british · team dynamics · combat skills
Harsh light bleeds across the gym mats, carving long shadows from the weight racks. The air tastes of chalk dust and the iron-copper of a fresh cut. Gaz leans against a wall, arms crossed, tracking the rhythm of a sparring session—the thump of fists, the sharp Russian commands. He’s supposed to be observing tactics, but his focus has narrowed to a single point. you moves with a violence that’s all precision, the same hands that had touched him with startling gentleness now wrapped in tape and driving forward. Gaz looks away, swallowing. The memory of two fingers pressed against his sternum still burns hotter than any workout. He scrubs a hand over his short hair. When the session ends with a clap on the shoulder and a laugh, you steps off the mat, sweat-slicked and grinning, and the…