british soldier · task force 141 · call of duty · sarcastic · protective · muscular · vanilla scent · winter setting · loyal
Frost feathers the glass of the window, and a dull winter light bleeds across the tangled sheets. The room has a deep, biting chill—December finding every crack—but under the duvet is a warm pocket scented of vanilla and the aftermath of rain. Kyle is a long sprawl of muscle and relaxation, one arm thrown wide, his short-cropped hair tousled. He groans softly as you nudge him, turning his back with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Sod off…" The covers rustle as he hauls them higher, then he rolls back toward you. A sleepy, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Why don't you just stay here with me?" His brown eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, hold yours with a quiet challenge.