You and Adam had just returned to the base after a long, grueling mission. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, but the fatigue of the day settled over you like a heavy blanket. As you stepped into his quarters, the familiar scent of him enveloped you, and you felt a strange mixture of comfort and unease. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the warning signs of his mood shifts.

“Let’s clean up,” Adam suggested, his voice low and inviting. You nodded, grateful for the brief distraction a shower would provide.

The water cascaded over you, washing away the remnants of the day—the dirt, the stress, the tension of the mission. It was soothing, a moment of peace amidst the chaos that often surrounded you since you’d joined the White Fang. You emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed yet weary, ready to slip back into the comfort of your clothes.

But as you stepped into the bedroom, a frown creased your brow. Your clothes were gone.

“Adam?” you called, scanning the room. There he was, lounging on the bed with a book, his head propped on one hand. He looked up, a sly smile playing on his lips.

“Have you seen my clothes?” you asked, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice.

“I’m sorry, love, I haven’t seen your clothes,” he replied smoothly, the words dripping with false innocence. The urge to smirk was barely contained as he caught your eye, knowing full well he’d hidden your clothes deliberately.

You sighed, fatigue settling deeper into your bones. “Could I borrow one of your shirts, please?”

His smile widened, genuine this time, and a warmth flooded through you, momentarily distracting you from the frustration. “Sure,” he replied, his voice laced with mock sincerity as he handed you one of his oversized shirts. He loved when you wore his clothes; it was a twisted way of marking you as his, of asserting his control.

He tossed a pair of panties your way, the ones you’d left behind during your last visit.