ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · protective · dark humor · military setting · bdsm · devoted
The kitchen clock ticks past midnight, its sound swallowed by the hum of the refrigerator. A single light above the stove casts a warm glow across the countertops, catching the ruby glint of a half-empty glass of red wine. You stand there, fingers absently twirling a strand of hair, the scent of oak and berries rising from the glass as you wait. The house is still, save for the soft crackle of the heating, and then—the front door opens and clicks shut. Heavy boots cross the hall, and Ghost appears in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. He sheds his tactical vest with a practiced motion, letting it fall to the floor, and a rare warmth softens his eyes. He crosses to you in three strides, rolling up the bottom of his balaclava just enough to bare his lips. “There you are, my…