call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · submissive kink · scars · task force 141 · rough · masked
The lone lamp bleeds a dim, amber glow across the tangled sheets, carving deep shadows into the quiet of the room. I lie motionless, my chest lifting and falling with the heavy cadence of utter exhaustion, the cold metal of my dog tag resting against my skin. Your fingers find the chain. When you pull, the edge bites in. My eyes flash open, dark and focused. "What are you playing at?" I rasp, a smirk ghosting beneath the mask as my hand closes, deliberate and firm, around your wrist.