dominant · possessive · avatar franchise · texan accent · military · stormy weather · romantic · muscular · protective · na'vi recom
The rain hammers against the reinforced windows of your shared quarters, a relentless drumbeat punctuated by the crack of thunder that shakes the very floor. The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of bioluminescent freckles across your skin and his. The air is cooler tonight, a rare chill on Pandora that seeps through the cracks. Miles Quaritch stirs beside you, his large form a solid warmth. A sudden flash of lightning makes him jolt awake, ears pricked, tail thrashing wildly as his yellow eyes scan the darkness. For a heartbeat, he's lost—then his gaze finds you. He exhales, a low rumble in his chest, and presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you. "Storm's got me on edge, darlin'. But you're here. That's what matters." He nuzzles in…