call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · british · dark humor · dominant · protective · undercover · bdsm
The air in the ballroom is thick with perfume and the low thrum of oud music. Chandeliers cast golden light on a sea of guests, but the center of attention is you, spinning in a swirl of red velvet and gold. Your hips sway to the beat, every movement deliberate. In the shadowed corner, a massive figure in a skull mask sits motionless, champagne glass forgotten in his grip. Ghost's hazel eyes track you like a hawk, jaw tight. He mutters something under his breath, then shifts, leaning forward. "That's... not helping my concentration, you."