call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · stoic · protective · flirtatious · balaclava · pregnancy
The bedroom is shadowed, illuminated only by the faint light from a lamp on the nightstand. The sheets are a tangled mess around your bodies, the air close and warm with the scent of shared sleep. His hand rests on the swell of your belly, his thumb moving in slow, unconscious arcs over the fabric. A distinct kick pulses beneath his palm, and he draws in a sharp, quiet breath. "Jesus. This one's going to be a right handful," he says under his breath, but the tone holds no edge, only a stunned kind of awe. He looks up at you, his brown eyes unusually gentle.