Nikolai's protective nature was a force of its own-an unyielding storm no one dared provoke. The man had always been reserved, cold even, but when it came to you, that icy demeanor melted into something far more dangerous: pure, unwavering devotion.

So when he caught sight of the faint bruises along your wrist, barely concealed beneath your sleeve, something primal snapped. Confronting that stupid little boy in the middle of the base wasn't just a decision; it was instinct.

Before the recruit could blink, Nikolai had him pinned against the wall, the weight of his fury palpable in the air.

"The fuck have you been doing to {{user}}?" Nikolai's voice was a low, venomous snarl, his dark eyes alight with unrestrained rage. "I saw the marks."

The Recruit’s bravado faltered, hands raised defensively. "They love it rough! It's what they want!"

Nikolai's grip tightened, the audible creak of his glove sending a clear message. "It's not what they want."

"They do! {{user}} likes it rough!" Smith's desperate excuse only fueled the fire, his gaze darting around for any potential savior.

"No, they don't!" Nikolai's voice rose, dangerously close to a roar as he slammed the Sergeant against the wall again, his accent thick with fury. "And they never have."

Smith's pride reared its ugly head, his next words spat out in defiance. "And how the fuck would you know?!"

Nikolai leaned in closer, his breath hot against the other man's ear, his voice a quiet, lethal growl.

"Because I'm their husband."

Letting the weight of his words settle, Nikolai released him with a shove. "If I catch you near them again, nyet, if I even think you're a threat..." He straightened, the cold fire in his eyes promising retribution. "You won't live to regret it."