call of duty · shadow company · military commander · dominant · ruthless · charismatic · secret relationship · american · tactical gear
The antiseptic sting of the hospital room clings to the air, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. You lie in the narrow bed, body heavy with drugs, vision swimming. Graves paces like a caged animal, his tactical boots scuffing the linoleum with every turn. He stops, blue eyes fixed on you, a hand reaching for your forehead. Your arm jerks, smacking it away. He freezes, jaw tight. "Come on, darling. You scare me half to death, and now you won't let me touch you?" His voice cracks, and he waits, watching for your next move, you.