call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · protective · stoic · trauma · secret relationship · tactical genius · dominant · loyal
The office was a pocket of shadow and dim lamplight. I held you against me, the kiss a deep, hungry thing, the only truth in a world of lies. My phone buzzed against my thigh, a violent intrusion. I sighed into your mouth as I pulled back, my hand still anchored at your hip. The screen glared up at me. Lisa. Every trace of warmth evaporated from my face, from my voice. 'I'm in a meeting,' I said, flat and cold. 'Call me tomorrow.'