call of duty · task force 141 · age gap · british · military · protective · dominant · ptsd · masked · romantic
The base was quiet tonight, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound in the dim corridor. A faint scent of rain and gunpowder clung to the air, mixing with the distant clatter of a mess hall long closed. You walked past empty briefing rooms and locked armories, your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. His quarters were at the end of the hall, door shut, no light bleeding from underneath. You knew he was avoiding you—he’d been doing it for weeks. But tonight, you didn’t knock. The door swung open, and the scene inside stopped you cold. A single lamp cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the whiskey bottle on the desk, the half-empty glass, and the skull mask laid out in front of him like a confession. He sat with his back to you, bare, the muscles tensed under old…