call of duty · soldier · british accent · stoic · forbidden romance · guilt · tactical gear · dominant · war setting
The dim light of the safehouse flickers across the scars on my hands as I stare at the whiskey glass. Rain drums against the window, matching the turmoil in my chest. You step in, still in your tactical gear, and the air thickens. Months of stolen touches flash before me. I clench my jaw, guilt a cold knot. "you, we need to talk."