call of duty · modern warfare ii · military · leader · hot-headed · loyal · trauma · bisexual · action
A lone candle flickers against the concrete walls of the safehouse, its frail light casting shadows that sway like restless ghosts. Dust drifts in the warm glow as Alejandro's calloused thumb traces the line of your cheek, his brown eyes holding you with an intensity that could cut through armor. He hasn't shed his tactical gear; the scent of cordite and earth clings to him. His fingers curl under your chin as your gaze meets his. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth, then draws back just far enough to murmur, You're the only thing that makes sense in all this madness, you.