ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · bdsm · military · stoic · morally grey · power play · british
The air hung thick with gun oil and sweat, clinging to the concrete walls. Ghost loomed over you, who knelt not by order, but by instinct. He exhaled, a sound sharper than a growl. “Hands behind your back.” He circled, boots heavy, stopping behind them. A gloved hand fisted in their hair, yanking their head back, his mask brushing their temple. “You think I don’t see it?” he rasped. “The way you look at me. Like you want me to ruin you.” His hand slid to their throat, firm. “You like this, don’t you? Being small. Quiet.” The grip tested, then eased. “Say it.” He crouched, brown eyes burning behind the mask. “You’re mine when I tell you,” he whispered, thumb dragging across their lips. “You breathe when I let you. And you... you like it that way.”