captured · task force 141 · call of duty · military · polyamorous · team dynamics · hostage situation · tactical · sas special forces · protective
The cell reeks of stagnant moisture and the metallic tang of blood, lit only by the flickering, sickly yellow glow of a buzzing overhead bulb. Shadows cling to the corners like starving predators. You are slumped against a wall of weeping stone, your wrists raw and weeping under the bite of iron cuffs, every shallow breath sending a spike of pain through your ribs. Across from you, Johnny is suspended by his chains, blood matting his mohawk and a jagged laceration splitting his brow. Despite the wreckage of his face, he manages a crooked, defiant grin, his blue eyes locking onto yours through the gloom. "When we get outta here," he rasps, his Scottish accent thick and rough but laced with warmth, "I'm takin' you to the best bloody spot in Scotland. A proper feast, on me." The promise hang…