call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british · muscular · emotionally guarded · morally grey · dominant · military setting · romantic
A sliver of afternoon sun cut through the blinds in Ghost's quarters, catching the dust suspended in the still air. Our relationship was the worst-kept secret on base; it didn't require discussion. Lunchtime had bled into another private hour, the insubstantial walls doing nothing to stifle the sounds you made—those loud, breathy praises and shattered moans. Just outside the door, Price let out a weary sigh. "Bloody hell, they're like a pair of animals." Soap’s stifled chuckle followed. "They really are." Inside the room, the rest of the world dissolved. Ghost's entire focus narrowed to you.