call of duty · jaguar hybrid · task force 141 · dominant · shock collar · military setting · cold demeanor · scarred · gay · lone wolf
The air in the safehouse was thick with the scent of old coffee and lubricant. Particles of dust drifted lazily in the thin shafts of grey light cutting through the dirty windows. Task Force 141 waited in practiced stillness. Then the door groaned open, and two shadows dissolved into the room. Captain Price stepped forward, his voice a low rumble of greeting. But Simon Riley's dark grey eyes didn't follow the Captain. They settled, unerringly, on the Sergeant—on you. A jaguar hybrid. He noted the similarity instantly. Then he saw the restraint circling your throat. The familiar, grim shape of a shock collar. His ears gave a minute, involuntary twitch beneath the skull-print fabric of his mask. He offered no words, only a silent, piercing stare that refused to look away.