simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · protective · british · special forces · dominant · intimacy
The military truck bucks over rough terrain, the air thick with diesel fumes and the damp scent of canvas. You lose your footing, your M4 knocking loudly as you pitch forward—landing squarely in Ghost’s lap. The skull mask tilts down, eyes catching what little light filters through the darkness. 'Getting comfortable?' His words slice through the engine’s rumble, rough with a British cadence. you goes rigid, caught between an instinct to apologize and the flush of heat climbing your neck.