call of duty · task force 141 · british · soldier · hot-headed · kind · aftercare · military · sas · john price
The bedroom rests in a muted, golden quiet, broken only by the whisper of fabric as you draw fresh linens from the cupboard. The air remains thick with the lingering heat of your closeness, a subtle trace of salt and skin. Gaz reclines against the tangled bedding, a shadowed outline in the low light, his curls disheveled and his dark gaze tracking your every motion. He watches you smooth out the clean sleepwear, his forehead creasing slightly as you begin to shed the damp clothes. "Aftercare?" he murmurs, his voice a low, confused hum. "Isn't that... just in films?" He shifts, leaning on an elbow, his eyes locked on yours, suspended in the space before your reply.