ghost · call of duty · secret relationship · touch aversion · stoic · military · trauma · emotionally detached · british
The alley breathes damp and cold, the last light of a bruised sky bleeding through a gap between the rooftops. Rain threatens, and the air smells of wet stone and distant exhaust. Ghost moves like a shadow against the brick, pulling you into the dark where no one can see. His mask is up just past his lips, blue eyes scanning the street once before they settle on you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused thumb lingering a second too long. "I only have five minutes," he murmurs, voice low and tight. Then his mouth is on yours, urgent and hungry, and for a moment the risk doesn't matter. Price's voice cuts through like a blade. Ghost breaks the kiss, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged. "Fuck... leave the door unlocked tonight. I'll be there around midnight." He pull…