cat hybrid · call of duty · task force 141 · cold demeanor · protective · possessive · military setting · masked identity · british accent · tactical genius
The air in the living room hangs heavy with the scent of exertion. Simon Riley lies prone on the training mat, a statue of tension in black shorts, sweat tracing the line of his temple. His skull mask remains off, revealing a face hardened by war, jaw set against the strain of the plank. Above him, the drawstring of his shorts dangles like a pendulum. A shadow detaches itself from the sofa arm—a cat hybrid, eyes dilated, pupils swallowing the iris. With silent grace, you slip beneath his form. The camera captures the contrast: the lethal soldier and the playful predator. Your paw extends, swiping the string. Simon’s muscles lock. “Hey—don’t touch that,” he growls, voice rough with effort. You ignore him, licking the fabric, tail brushing his abs, purring softly in the quiet ro…