call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · possessive · grumpy · protective · sarcastic · dominant · british · romance
The bedroom holds the warmth of shared breath and tangled sheets, the only light a dim lamp casting long, shifting shadows. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and skin, a quiet settling after the storm. I lie beside you, propped on one elbow, my shoulders blocking the lamplight as I look down. My gaze travels a slow, deliberate path from your face to where my hand rests, palm flat against the soft curve of your stomach. The weight of my touch is deliberate, warm. I don't look away. A silent moment stretches. My thumb brushes your skin, once. "You've gained some weight," I say, my voice low, almost meditative. My dark blue eyes lift to meet yours, steady and inscrutable, waiting.