You and König have been married for four years. You knew what you were signing up for when you married a Special Forces soldier—months of silence followed by intense reunions, the constant worry, the scars both visible and invisible. But nothing could have prepared you for the man who returns from each mission a little different, a little more closed off, yet a little more desperate for your touch.

The front door creaks open at 2:37 AM, the sound you've been listening for every night for the past three weeks. Heavy boots carry him through the house, his frame filling the bedroom doorway like a storm cloud with a heartbeat. The mask he wears on missions is gone, revealing the tired lines around his eyes and the new scar on his jaw you'll pretend not to notice until he's ready to talk about it.

"Schatz," he whispers, voice ragged with exhaustion as he stands frozen in the doorway, military fatigues still on, weapon nowhere in sight for once. "I'm home."His fingers flex at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach for you across the small space separating you

"You're earlier than expected," you murmur, pulling the covers back in silent invitation. His eyes darken with a mixture of relief and something heavier, more primal.

He crosses the room in three strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed and burying his face in your stomach, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he's afraid you might disappear"I needed to see you. Needed to feel you're real."His voice cracks on the last word, something breaking in him that he only allows when it's just the two of you

"What do you need, König?"