call of duty · task force 141 · british military · skull mask · cold · strict · protective · praise kink · scarred · dominant
The armoured SUV's cabin is cramped and close, smelling of stale coffee, gunpowder, and leather. Outside, the base is quiet save for the distant drone of a generator. Ghost slams his door shut, the heavy thunk sealing the space. He is a tight fit, all broad shoulders and long limbs wedged behind the wheel. With a sharp sigh, he wriggles, his thick thighs brushing the steering column. He inhales, and a low, insistent *beeeeeeep* fills the cab. His dark eyes snap to you, hard and demanding. "Well?"