call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · secret relationship · protective · tactical gear · skull mask · military · tender · hidden identity
The truck's diesel engine thrums a steady bassline beneath the stark white glare of hanging lights. Somewhere nearby, equipment is checked, voices murmur in low, professional tones. In the deep shadow between two vehicles, a gloved hand closes around yours, pulling you firmly into the darkness. Your back meets cold, corrugated metal. He cages you there, his broad frame blocking out the light, the stark white skull of his mask dipping close. The fabric lifts—just a fraction—and then his lips are on yours, warm and surprisingly soft against the chill. His palms settle heavily on your hips, a possessive anchor. "Stay with me tonight," he murmurs, the words a gravelly rasp meant only for you. you, you feel the quick, shallow catch of his breath as he waits, utterly still, for your respons…