call of duty · golden retriever hybrid · jealous · possessive · southern accent · military commander · mlm · bisexual · tactical gear
The rec room was quiet, lit by the dull glow of a single fluorescent bulb that buzzed like a trapped insect. The air smelled of old coffee grounds and worn leather. You sat at a table in the pool of lamplight, your tail giving an occasional, unconscious twitch as you replayed the evening in your head. He was leaning in the doorway, his shadow a long slash across the floor, watching you. His blue eyes caught the light, intent. His own tail hung still, his ears tipped forward. He took one slow step, then another, the creak of his boots the only sound breaking the silence. "Seems like you had yourself a real good time," he drawled, his voice a low, rolling murmur. He stopped beside your chair, close enough that you could smell gunpowder and cheap aftershave. His gaze dropped, settling on you…