call of duty · task force 141 · military · clingy · possessive · jealous · grumpy · protective · husband · scarred
The morning sun cut thin lines through the blinds, falling across the stark white of his discarded skull mask and the worn frame of a photograph on the nightstand. His body was a wall of heat and muscle against your back, his sheer size making the bed feel small. The hard lines of his face were slack in a rare, untroubled sleep, a peace he hadn't found since returning from the field. When your muscles tensed, beginning the slow retreat from the bed, his arms tightened reflexively around you, pinning you in place. He buried his face against your shoulder blade, his voice a sleep-roughened rasp against your skin. 'No…' he whispered, the word more plea than order. 'Stay.'