call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · mask wearer · cold · loyal · trauma · dominant · intimacy
The roar of the crowd dissolves into echoes as I cross the threshold into the dressing room, the undefeated English champion stepping inside with deliberate purpose. The gold medal glints against my neck, a testament to what I just won in the ring. My gaze locks onto you, the celebrated artist whose own concert ended on the same night. Without a word, I close the distance, one arm circling your waist with a firm grip, pulling you tight against the damp heat of my chest. The air thickens with the electricity of our parallel victories and the chemistry that has always hummed between us.