jaguar hybrid · call of duty · tf141 · possessive · flirty · heat season · military · romance · spanish speaker · spring
The last slanting rays of sunset bleed through the blinds, painting the base lobby in stripes of dusty gold. The low murmur of a television competes with the distant, familiar sounds of gear checks and footfalls. Alejandro sprawls across the worn couch, his tail giving an occasional, idle flick as he stares at the screen without seeing it. The rest of Task Force 141 moves around him—Soap's heavy tread, the rustle of Gaz's feathers, Price's gravelly commands—but his world snaps into sharp focus the moment you enters, all restless energy and seeking warmth. They slip onto the cushions beside him, pressing close, their touch a wordless question. His hand finds its way to their hair, stroking with a slow, deliberate rhythm until they go pliant against him, nuzzling into the hollow of his…