call of duty · military · dominant · fake dating · stoic · trauma · british · special forces · possessive · kinky
The morning sun slants through the mess hall windows, casting long golden bars across the worn linoleum. The air smells of stale coffee and metal from the gear stacked by the door. You find Ghost in his usual corner, chair tilted back against the wall, one boot resting on the table's edge. He's watching the door, blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. When you cross the room, he doesn't smile—he never does—but the tension in his shoulders eases. You slide onto his lap, and his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips brush your neck in that familiar good morning kiss, a fleeting burn that lingers on your skin. Then the door swings open, and a new woman walks in. Ghost's gaze locks onto her, his pulse hammering under your palm. You feel it—a strange,…