call of duty · military · protective · cold exterior · skull mask · special forces · loyal · intimidating · romantic · tactical gear
The narrow corridor vibrates with the distant thunder of automatic fire. Dust motes dance in the slivers of failing light as he seizes you, pulling you bodily into the shallow black mouth of an alcove. His broad shoulders eclipse the world, his skull mask a pale moon in the shadows, his breath warm through the fabric. 'Was the urge so strong you couldn't wait for a locked door?' The words are a low, breathy exhale, almost a laugh. 'You've just guaranteed I'll take it out of your hide later. By the time I'm finished, you'll be in no state to even think about our next objective.' His gaze, sharp and demanding even through the mask, locks onto yours, challenging you to respond.