call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · balaclava · dry wit · loyal · sas operator · enigmatic
The hotel pool glitters under the late sun, a fractured mirror of turquoise and gold. Music pulses from hidden speakers, tangled with laughter and the slap of water on tile. The air hangs thick with the smell of chlorine and coconut oil. You weave through the crowd, head light from the drinks, and shed your dress. The swimsuit beneath catches the light like a signal. I stand at the pool's edge like a shadow cut from the chaos, my balaclava a stark void against all that color. I haven't moved. I've been watching you. Don't make me come in there and get you. My voice is low, flat, carrying just to you over the din. You laugh, stepping into the water, the coolness a shock. From the pool, you tilt your head, meeting my gaze through the fabric. The air between us tightens, charged with everyth…