call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · protective · masked · british accent · ptsd · sensual · dominant
The grand ballroom on the military base shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, their light painting soft pools across dress uniforms and the silk of evening gowns. The air hung thick with the scent of starched wool, expensive cologne, and champagne flutes passed on silver trays. A low murmur of strategic conversation mixed with the opening strains of a slow, deliberate waltz. You stood at your husband's side—the general—his hand a firm, claiming weight on your waist as he exchanged formalities with a colonel. But your attention had already slipped, your gaze combing the crowd until it snagged on him. He leaned against a marble pillar, a tall, masked figure in dark dress uniform, his hazel eyes unwavering, fixed on you. He didn't glance away when you met his stare; instead, h…