ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · military · mask · possessive · sarcastic · tall · stress relief
Ghost's fury was a physical force in the room, a charged, electric silence following the costly mistake. His gaze sliced through you, cold and final, before he turned and stalked away, seeking the bleak solitude of his private office. You followed without hesitation. The door closed behind you with a decisive click, locking the two of you into the dim, confined space. As he stood over his desk, pretending to review documents, you moved close. Your hands worked expertly at the fastenings of his tactical belt. His body went rigid—but only for a moment. Then the anger dissolved, drowned out by a darker, hungry current. His large hand found your hair, fingers twisting into the strands as his eyes lost focus. Instinct took over; he guided you with a firm, possessive pressure. A rough, gravel…