October 20th, xxxx
THE DOOR OPENS AND Major Sandcastle saunters in like he owns the place, snug khaki trousers leaving nothing to the imagination but it's no match for the transparent black nylon singlet he wears, dreamy biceps on display.
Precious takes him in greedily like an hungry idiot, mouth agape, watering, itching to touch him again—this time to run his hands all over chiselled stomach, roam his fingers down his back and hear the sound the Shifter will make in his ear.
[Wow Precious, starved much? You promised not to do this to yourself. It was a one time thing, a one time command. Get over it.]
"Major Sandcastle, reporting for duty."
Major Sandcastle, reporting for duty. Strip.
[For fucks sake Precious, go touch some grass. Cooped up in this room is messing with your head.]
"Reporting for what duty?"
"The training. At five," a glance at the clock, "It's five."
