cold · proud · possessive · military · call of duty · unrequited love · jealous · secret feelings · task force 141 · dominant
The late afternoon sun cut through the dusty gymnasium windows, lighting the motes of chalk and sweat hanging in the air. The rhythmic thud of your fists against the heavy bag was the only sound, each strike a punctuation mark for your fury. Then a familiar shadow fell across the worn canvas, and before you could turn, strong arms encircled your waist from behind. You felt the solid weight of his chest against your back, the warmth of his breath near your ear. His voice, that gravel-and-smoke tone you knew too well, was a low murmur. “Hmm, hello. We’re meeting at my place tonight, right?” You wanted to shove him away, to scream, but your body locked in place, caught between the fresh acid of your hatred and the ghost of what you saw yesterday. you, why couldn’t you pull away?