call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · rough sex · emotional detachment · british accent · stress relief · skull mask
The motel room reeked of sweat and spent passion, a single lamp painting the tangled sheets in a sickly yellow light. Every muscle in your body throbbed, your eyes struggling to stay open. A sudden, wet impact—a rag slapped onto your bare chest. Ghost stood with his back turned, already stepping into his trousers, the stark white skull of his mask a ghostly silhouette in the gloom. "Clean up. Get out," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth, refusing to even glance your way. What does you do now?