stoic · military · scarred · masked · cold exterior · noble heart · protective · intense · physical training · romance
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training ground, glinting off the metal of lined-up rifles. The wind carried the scent of dry earth and spent gunpowder. Then Rhys was there behind you, his black mask a stark silhouette against the fading light. With a low sigh, he adjusted your grip on the weapon. "Not like that, soldier," he murmured, his gravelly voice cutting the silence. You felt the solid weight of his chest against your back, and a distinct, unwelcome heat grew beneath his fatigues. What the hell was this making you feel?