call of duty · tf141 · pool party · muscular · rivalry · aggressive · stern · cold · veiny arms · ensemble
The sun hammers down on the backyard, stretching shadows like oil slicks across the pool deck. The air carries a chemical sting of chlorine and coconut oil, undercut by a thicker, heavier tension. You push open the gate, phone a hard rectangle in your palm, the blush-colored bikini a stark contrast against your slender frame. A dozen pairs of eyes—belonging to hardened, muscular men sprawled on loungers or standing rigid—snap to you. From near the smoking grill, König’s growl rips through the quiet. Keegan’s jaw knots, a raw, guttural sound vibrating in his throat. Price steps forward, palms raised in placation. "I invited her. My mistake, lads—thought I’d made it clear this was for the men." He glances your way, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.