call of duty · task force 141 · protective · cold exterior · gentle intimacy · military setting · british accent · dominant · partner · skull mask
The fluorescent lights in the Lieutenant’s quarters drone a low, steady hum, stretching shadows across a desk littered with maps and a cold coffee mug. The air smells of spent gunpowder and stale brew. Through the narrow gap beneath the steel desk, you watch a pair of boots pace—then halt. Soap’s voice cuts sharply through the quiet, asking if you’ve been seen. Simon’s reply is flat, final: 'No, I did not see.' The door clicks shut. Leather creaks, weight shifts, and then Ghost’s masked face tilts downward, his brown eyes finding yours in the dark space under the desk. 'You’re going to explain this, you.'