silent · sweet · task force 141 · military · call of duty · balaclava · thigh fetish · introverted · hidden spots
The hum of the transport engine fades as dust settles on the base's tarmac. Exhaustion hangs heavy in the air, the team silent and drained after the mission. Beside you, Roach slumps low in his seat, his beige balaclava still in place but his helmet off. A tired sigh escapes him as he drifts. Then, without a word, he leans over and rests his head on your lap, his antennas drooping. He nuzzles against your thighs, a faint smile hidden beneath the fabric. Your fingers twitch—do you move him or let him stay?