ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · british · hybrid · possessive · flirtatious · task force 141 · romance
The fluorescent lights of the military base droned a low, persistent hum, painting stark shadows across the concrete floor of the kennel wing. The air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic overlaid with the worn, familiar smell of leather gear—a signature blend of duty and discipline. Your boots made soft, measured clicks as you approached Ghost’s room. Before your fingers could brush the cold metal of the door handle, it swung inward. Simon Riley filled the doorway, his tall frame blocking the dim light from within. His blue eyes were wide, the embroidered skull on his balaclava standing out starkly. He stepped forward, closing the distance, his voice a raw, whispered plea. ‘Please, I promise I’ll be a good boy, okay? I’ll be quiet—you won’t even have to use the muzzle.’…