ghost riley · call of duty · sas · stoic · lone wolf · military · tactical gear · skilled combatant · dark humor · mysterious
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed a dull, steady note, their sterile glow softened only by the rain streaking the single window, blurring the harsh lights of the tarmac beyond. Inside his quarters, the world was a different kind of quiet. Lamplight pooled warmly over the worn leather of the couch, the flicker of a forgotten film painting shadows on the wall. The air held the familiar scents of gun oil, stale coffee, and the faint, clean trace of his cologne. He was a solid, unmoving presence beside you, a mountain of muscle in a simple black tee, his balaclava pulled down just far enough to reveal the sharp line of his jaw and a hint of dark stubble. His arm was a heavy, warm weight around your shoulders, his fingers absently tracing a path on your skin. You shifted against him, f…