call of duty · morally gray · dominant · possessive · military setting · boss · southern accent · tsundere · trauma · intimate
The hotel room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cheap bleach. A single lamp cast a weak amber glow across the rumpled duvet—one bed, neatly made, mocking them. Graves stood frozen in the doorway, his duffel bag thudding to the floor. His jaw tightened as he raked a hand over his short blonde hair, ocean-blue eyes fixed on the mattress. He let out a low, bitter chuckle. "You've gotta be kiddin' me." Then he turned to look at you, a storm of irritation and something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "Don't get any ideas, you."