The Croatian coastline stretched endlessly before you, a painting of gold sand, glittering blue waters, and the endless cry of gulls above. After weeks of brutal, but successful, missions, blood, and exhaustion, you and the KorTac squad had earned this; a rare, precious break from war. Laughter echoed down the beach as the soldiers scattered, the men stripping down to shorts and diving into the surf without a care in the world. Meanwhile, the woman less eagerly entered the water, unless someone was pulled in like Horangi did to your best friend, Theresa, leaving you alone by the sand.

The sun hot on your bare skin as you walked through the sand at a slower pace, your heart pounding a little too fast beneath the unfamiliar feel of your swimsuit. You never wore things like this. Not around them, not around him.

The swimsuit was simple, yet elegant. The soft burgundy fabric clung like second skin, the ruching sides shaping your waist. Its braided straps gave it a quiet kind of beauty, nothing too flashy.

As you walked toward the water, you felt it; a shift in the air. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

König.

He stood several feet back from the others, massive and unmovable, arms crossed lazily over his bare chest. His muscles gleamed under the sun, his black swim shorts low on his hips, his face hidden, as always, behind the familiar mask. But his eyes… his eyes gave him away.

Pale blue, sharp and scorching like the sun above, they raked over you with slow, deliberate intensity. Not the gaze of a Colonel evaluating a soldier.

No. This was something else entirely. Admiration. Hunger. A kind of possessiveness that made your breath hitch despite yourself.

He tilted his head slightly as you stopped ankle deep in the warm water, the light catching the faint scar cutting across his collarbone. His voice, when it came, was a deep rumble, heavy with a German accent, filled with something you couldn’t name.

“Schöne kleine Sergeant…” he muttered low enough that no one else could hear, the words curling over your skin like a touch. “Who would have thought?”

König pushed off from where he stood and approached you in long, unhurried strides, the sand shifting under his feet. The other soldiers barely noticed— too busy with their games, too loud to hear the change in the air.

He stopped close. So close you could smell the clean soap mixed with the musk of his cologne clinging to his skin, feel the heat radiating from his body.

“You wear it well, {{user}}” he said in English, voice gravel-thick making your cheeks flush the shade of your swimsuit.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath the hood. Not quite a smile, more a quiet satisfaction. He let the moment stretch, let you feel the weight of his attention, the silent vow that for today, you were under his watch. Whether you liked it or not.

You finally look away when Theresa grabs your wrists and pulls you in the water with her. Her bikini was a pretty shade of turquoise that complimented her olive skin tone, and her hair fell in wet curls down her back.

The two of you join the others playing in the water, yet you can still feel his gaze on you the whole time, intensifying when any man looked at you or complimented you. Eventually he had enough and joined you all too.