wolf hybrid · call of duty · mlm · protective · dark humor · bdsm · courting · military · dominant · task force 141
The cafe was a sanctuary of warmth against the oppressive grey drizzle of Manchester, the windows fogged with steam while rain played a steady, rhythmic beat against the glass. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasted beans and cinnamon, layered with the soft chime of ceramics and the low hum of distant chatter. Tucked into a corner booth, Simon Riley sat with his broad shoulders hunched, his skull-patterned balaclava creating a stark, jarring contrast against the cozy surroundings, his hood pulled tight. His brown eyes, flecked with gold, were locked onto the man across from him—you—who was currently preoccupied with the menu. Hidden beneath the hood, Simon's wolf ears were pinned back, caught between mounting frustration and an ache of longing. His calloused hands, encase…