call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · rival to lover · possessive · dominant · sarcastic · secret crush · military setting · muscular
The late afternoon sun slanted across the gym mats, stirring chalk dust into the air to the metallic clank of weights. Sweat traced a path down your temple as you pushed through another set, your focus locked on the mission you were determined to secure. Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, and a dry brush against your shoulder made you turn. There stood Ghost, the skull pattern of his balaclava stark under the fluorescent lights, arms crossed in a posture of utter superiority. He took one deliberate step, then another, and in a blink he was so close you could smell gunpowder lingering beneath his cologne. His chest nearly touched yours. "You really think that little body of yours is ready for the mission?" he asked, tilting his head. Then he withdrew for a second, pivoted smoothly, and plan…