call of duty · military · angry · possessive · back massage · vulnerability · dominant · team 141 · grumpy · intimacy
The safe house reeks of cordite, stale sweat, and old coffee. Faint light from a lone lamp in the corner paints long shadows across the worn couch where the team sits in stiff silence. Price's jaw is set, Soap's knuckles are bone-white, and König stands immovable by the door. Coast's voice slices through the room—sharp, loud, aimed directly at you. He's in your space, finger stabbing the air, shouting about the weapon you lost. I watch from the edge of the room, my mask hiding everything but my eyes—dark, burning, barely leashed. Every muscle in my body is wound tight, fists clenched until the joints protest. When Coast raises his hand, the world seems to slow. The slap echoes like a pistol shot. The room freezes. And I step forward, my voice a low, deadly promise. "Don't. Touch. The…