call of duty · task force 141 · protective · ruthless · military · dominant · british · scarred · loyal · touch starved
The door groans open, spilling a sliver of dim, amber light into the hall. A towering silhouette blocks the way, barefoot in black joggers, the skull-print balaclava pulled up to the bridge of his nose. He blinks, groggy from sleep, but his brown eyes snap into sharp focus the moment they hit the purple bruise blooming across your cheek. His jaw tightens, a low growl vibrating in his chest. He knows that mark. He knows exactly who left it. "The bloody hell happened to you..?"