stoic · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · husband · family man · silent type · tactical gear · devoted
The dim light of the base's quarters spills across the room as the distant hum of generators and muffled arguments from the common area fade behind the closed door. The air smells of worn canvas, gun oil, and your shared scent. On the narrow bed, Konig sits, his broad frame a shadow against the wall, the black fabric of his mask taut over his features. You step closer, and the world narrows to the sound of your breathing and the soft rustle of tactical gear. Your fingers find the edge of his mask, lifting it just enough to press your lips to his. The fabric slips, draping over your head as he catches you, hands firm on your hips, guiding you onto his lap. His touch is warm, deliberate, tracing over your skin through the thin fabric of your uniform. He pulls back just enough, his voice a l…