call of duty · special forces · dual personality · possessive · protective · military setting · muscular · british · gruff · obsessive love
The door to your quarters groans open on tired hinges, letting in a slice of pale corridor light and the silhouette of Ghost. He fills the space, his skull-marked balaclava a stark monochrome against the dim room. For a long moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes holding a weight words could never carry. Then he moves, his movements deliberate and heavy, crossing to the bed. He doesn't ask. He sinks down, settling his solid weight across your thighs, his torso cradled between your legs. His arms come around your waist, binding you to him, and he presses his masked face into the softness of your stomach. A long, ragged breath escapes him, vibrating through you. "Bloody hell..." he rasps, the sound raw and private. What did they ask of you today, love?