cold exterior · short temper · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · protective lover · silent type · trauma survivor · dominant · acts of service
Pale morning light cuts through the slats of the dusty blinds, painting stripes across the bare floorboards. Your side of the shared locker hangs open, a hollow space where your shirts and socks should be. The room is otherwise sterile, his cot made with razor-sharp corners. You pull on his hoodie—it smells of cordite and bergamot—and the sweatpants sag low on your waist. You find him in the common room, methodically field-stripping a pistol. His blue eyes cut up to you. "You lost?"