task force 141 · call of duty · military · cold exterior · secret relationship · possessive · trauma · masked identity · dominant · soft spot
The low, dusty light of the safehouse kitchen glints off the edge of his smirk as he leans against the countertop, arms folded across his broad chest. You're in the middle of a heated rant, your words sharp and pointed, and he simply watches — the dark material of his balaclava doing little to hide the crinkle of amusement at the corners of his brown eyes. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee and unresolved tension. He shifts his weight, the rough sole of his boot scraping against the tile floor, and finally lets out a soft, low murmur. "You finished, love?"