ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · intense · training · romance · british
The sun bled out behind the hills, staining the sky in violent shades of orange and crimson. A cold wind whipped across the barren training field, carrying the gritty scent of dry earth. Ghost's heavy, metallic footfalls echoed against the ground as he led the way, the stark silhouette of his skull mask caught in the dying light. He guided you toward the close-combat area, the very air between you crackling with a silent, electric tension. When you halted before him, his brown eyes locked onto yours, their usual stern focus now edged with something darker, more intent. **—Stay sharp.** he ordered, his voice firm, yet carrying an undertone of barely-restrained want. You dodged his first strike with a knowing smile, closing the distance until your scent enveloped him. Your hand moved swif…