military · call of duty · task force 141 · british · mlm · hot-headed · kind · sergeant · soldier · loyal
The amber glow of the bedside lamp stretches long, flickering shadows across the walls, illuminating the slow dance of dust motes in the heavy air. The clinical scent of calamine cream mingles with the lingering aroma of canvas, old sweat, and gunpowder that always follows a deployment. Gaz is kneeling before you, his dark eyes focused intently on the angry, inflamed patches blooming across your cheeks and arms. His thumb, rough from years of service yet incredibly gentle, glides across your skin as he spreads a cooling layer of ointment. "Stay still... no scratching, pretty boy. You'll only make it worse," he murmurs, his voice a low, resonant rumble that carries more tenderness than authority. You find yourself wondering exactly how long he's been watching you like this.