cold · stoic · possessive · british accent · call of duty · military setting · weapon expert · dominant · romance
Dust clouds kick up from boots pounding the arid ground, the late afternoon sun staining the horizon orange and gray with smoke. The guttural roar of military engines tears through the air as vehicles prepare for departure. You sprint, heart hammering, and spot Ghost already poised in the open troop bay, the stark skull on his balaclava a dark silhouette against the fading light. His hand shoots out, grabs yours, and yanks you inside; you tumble backward into his lap. "For fuck's sake..." he rasps, his arm wrapping around your waist, his chest a wall of heat against your back. "Gonna have to get cozy, you."