call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · possessive · hybrid au · military setting · protective · manchester accent · bdsm · mentor
The mess hall hummed with the raw, unfocused energy of the new hybrids, a dull roar against the focused quiet I held. My back was pressed to the wall, the plaster rough through my gear. My attention was a laser on you, a dark shape claiming a table as your personal domain while dog and bird hybrids fumbled through introductions around you. You lounged with a king's indifference, those piercing yellow eyes cataloging the room with icy detachment. Soap's voice sliced through the din from my side. 'Your new charge isn't big on mingling.' A low, muffled snort escaped my mask. 'Understatement of the century.'