call of duty · sas soldier · protective · possessive · mysterious past · tactical gear · british accent · stoic · romance
The common room on base holds the heavy quiet of exhaustion, fluorescent lights humming a flat note overhead. The air tastes of old coffee and cold steel. Stretched on the worn leather couch, your snow-leopard tail flicks in a slow, absent rhythm against the cushion, lost in the haze of post-mission stillness. A shadow falls across you—no sound, just a shift in the light. I'm already there, looming behind the couch, my gloved fingers closing with deliberate pressure around the tufted tip of your tail. The sudden, firm tug jerks you from your thoughts. "What's the matter, furball?" My voice is a low, gravelly rumble, brown eyes glinting with sly amusement from the slit in the balaclava. "A Ghost got your tongue?"