It's by complete and utter chance that Kyle spots you at all. On mandatory leave for a full week after a particularly rough mission. Walking out of the shops, a few bags in hand, Kyle just so happens to look up in the right direction. Catches sight of your hair first, silky and shining in the afternoon light. His feet are already carrying him forward without conscious thought, eager to set up a cleaner line of sight.
Breathtaking, he thinks. The prettiest little bird Kyle ever did see. All sinful curves barely hidden beneath your clothes and the cutest pair of lips quirked in a small smirk, chatting on the phone. Kyle watches your mouth move and wonders what you sound like. Wishes he was close enough to hear your voice. Gobsmacked, he watches until you sink into a crowd of people. Resurfacing just to turn down a corner and finally disappearing out of sight.
Kyle shakes himself out of it, counts himself lucky to have even seen you at all and forces himself to walk back to his flat. But as afternoon bleeds into evening, Kyle finds he's unable to stop thinking about you. Like an itch he can't scratch. He gets more and more restless, replaying the way your hips swayed as you walked, the way your hair fluttered in the breeze.
Kyle has to see you again.
The following day finds Kyle hanging around the same shops. Scouting the area, hoping you'll show up again. He forces himself to look casual, wastes time buying a tea he barely drinks and window shops. Treats it just like he would a mission.
He's about to give up and head back home when he sees you. Tailing you is easy. Kyle keeps back, makes sure there's always a few bodies in between. Doesn't even have to worry about turning his face away in case you glance behind you. Clueless little thing, you have no idea you're being followed. The idea doesn't even seem to occur to you.
Kyle follows you for the rest of the afternoon. Down sidewalks, past alleyways, and even on the tube. All the way to your flat, where he watches you enter while quickly memorizing the number on your door.
With an address, finding more information about you is easy. It's child's play to plug it into housing databases and pour over the results until he finds your name. All of its public, after all.
Once he has that, Kyle can pull up each and every one of your socials. Even the old ones that are no longer updated and abandoned. He's up all night going through them. Piecing the overall picture of you together from different posts. A video here. A status update there. He's even able to suss out your place of employment. And when Kyle does a cursory search, he's able to put together travel routes, outline which train stations you're likely to take to and from your flat.
Figuring out your work schedule would be the final cherry on top of this stalking sundae. Kyle's leave is up in three days, has to be back at Stirling Lines by the week's end. If he's lucky, it'll be just enough time to learn the pattern.
But it is.
And so Kyle does.
Kyle passes the time in between missions holed up in his bunk engineering a plan to meet you. He's so focused on it—single minded and driven, just like tracking the terrorist cell before the shit show that was Piccadilly—that he pulls back a little from the rest of the 141. The others quickly take notice. Price even pulling Kyle aside after debrief one night, needing to make sure his Sergeant's head is clear.
It isn't until Soap just so happens to glance at your profile picture pulled up on Kyle's phone that the pieces all come together.
A bird, they realize.
Pretty one, too.
Soap badgers Kyle to introduce his bird to Soap's. Goes on and on about how grand it would be if his mate's girl got along with his. "Could do double dates and all that, aye, Gaz?" He says.
Kyle eventually acquiesces. Clasps Soap on the shoulder and says, "Sure, mate. We can do a double date."
When really, it's because Kyle's figured it out. The perfect meet cute.
The best way to finally make you his.
The way you all but stumble into Kyle's side while exiting the train station couldn't have gone more perfect. It knocks the book out of his grasp. And with subtle twitch of the hand, he uses the momentum to toss it just enough so it lands face up. It's a copy of one of your favorites. One you regularly make posts about to your socials.
It immediately draws your attention, and the two of you are quickly pulled into a delightful conversation. Kyle is charming, witty, knows this dance like the back of his hand. When to pursue and when to pull back, just enough to leave you wanting more. When Kyle asks you out for coffee with a smile he knows is blinding, you eagerly accept.
The coffee date goes well. So much so, that you agree to a second. A third. And then the two of you are chatting regularly. Teasing out bits and pieces of each other's lives through texts and phone calls. It feels perfect. Almost storybook in nature how well Kyle seems to match you beat for beat.
Somehow, it feels like he already knows everything about you.
Funny thing, that.
It progresses fairly quickly after that. Your dates almost always end with a passionate kiss in front of the door to your flat. Your hands on his shoulders, his on your hips and gripping tight. Kyle is so confident you'll invite him to spend the night soon, he starts keeping his go bag stashed in the boot of his car. Ready for the final step whenever you are.
And when you do, Kyle makes sure it's the best you've ever had. At the end of the day, Kyle loves to excel. To please. And this is no different. He takes you apart with his lips and tongue. Makes you beg for his fingers before Kyle even thinks about sliding his cock deep into your perfect, wet heat. He works you over with precision, and when it's finally over, when you're both panting and sated, bodies shining with sweat, Kyle pulls you against his chest. Holds you in his arms until your breathing slows and you start to fall asleep.
The last thoughts you have before finally drifting off, is how safe and secure you feel with him next to you.
How grateful you are for that day at the train station.
Kyle watches you sleep. And while he's content to enjoy your warmth, he also needs to make sure you're out cold. And if Kyle gives himself an extra moment to savor the feeling of a job well done before he slips out of bed, well. No one else has to know other than him. With quiet steps, he pads over to the overnight bag he stashed in the corner before clothes started coming off.
Kyle soaks a rag in enough chloroform to keep you unconscious for a long while. And it's the easiest thing to press it to your sleeping face and hold it there for just under a minute. It's then that Kyle lets his mindset shift into a working one. The sharp focus he uses while on the job.
He re-dresses quickly, and then carefully slips you into some pajamas he finds in your dresser. The zip ties come next, binding your arms and legs together so Kyle can carry you out to his car. He doesn't bother packing any of your clothes. He'll just buy whatever you could want when he has you secure in his flat. When you finally come around and see that you and him are perfect together.
That Kyle is the best you'll ever get.
That Kyle is the only one you'll ever get.
Ghost had once made an off handed comment once hunting wolves. Tried to explain to Kyle what it's like hunting something that doesn't just react in fear, but that is intelligent enough to understand it's being hunted. Said overcoming the challenge that provides is a high like nothing else.
Kyle makes sure you're securely tucked into the backseat before driving away and he thinks he understands a bit of what Ghost was trying to explain that day. But the way his body is humming with the satisfaction that comes from a plan going smoothly for once leads him to disagree on Ghost's final point. To Kyle, the high doesn't come from outsmarting intelligent prey.
It comes from setting a trap perfectly tailored to his target, and enticing it so sweetly it doesn't realize the noose already around its throat. Much less the knot that tightens.
