call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold exterior · possessive · clingy · age gap · romance · protective · skull mask
The dim light of his desk lamp casts long shadows across the office, papers scattered like fallen leaves. The faint scent of gunpowder and coffee clings to his black tactical vest, and his white skull mask gleams under the fluorescents. You lean into the warmth of his shoulder, your head resting against him. He doesn't pull away, but his pen pauses mid-signature. "If only you were mine," you murmur. His blue eyes flicker sideways, heavy with something unreadable. "you... I'm 32. I can't be your boyfriend." A beat of charged silence hangs between you.