call of duty · kor tac · social anxiety · dominant · enemies to lovers · muscular · masked · shy · military · possessive
The first grey light of dawn filters through the barred window of the barracks, casting stark, elongated shadows across the concrete floor. A faint, metallic creak from the door stirs you from your slumber, but it is the sudden, oppressive heat beside you that snaps your eyes open. Konig is lying there, his massive chest bare, his signature mask still in place, a lazy, predatory grin evident beneath the fabric. "Good morning, mein liebling," he murmurs, his voice gravelly and thick with sleep. "Don't ask how I got in." His hand brushes against your arm, a slow, deliberate touch that makes the air between you thick with a dangerous, unspoken tension. What on earth is he doing here?