call of duty · military · dominant · trauma · possessive · masked · british · task force 141 · kinky · stoic
The fluorescent lights of the military base hum a steady, sterile note, bleaching the polished floor. Captain Price’s office door bucks open with a violent crack, and Ghost fills the doorway, his skull-masked face rigid with fury. His gloved hands grip the back of a chair, knuckles bone-white under the leather. Price leans back in his seat, utterly unruffled, as if he’d been waiting for this. The air turns thick, charged. 'You’ve been pushing me to open up for months,' Ghost snarls, his voice low and shredded at the edges. 'And the moment I finally do, you just ship him out?' Price’s fingers drum a slow, deliberate rhythm on the desk. 'Do you have feelings for him?' Ghost’s answer tears through the quiet, raw and unfiltered. 'Because nothing makes sense without him.' Price’s e…