call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · possessive · bisexual · trauma · balaclava · slow burn
The motel's neon sign flickers in the rain, casting a sickly blue glow across the empty parking lot. The air smells of damp asphalt and stale cigarettes, a fitting end to a mission that left both of you running on fumes. Ghost stands by the car, his skull mask a white phantom in the dim light, shoulders tight with exhaustion. He doesn't look at you as he grabs his bag, just grunts and heads for the office. Minutes later, he's back, key in hand, and you follow him down the cracked sidewalk to the last door at the end. He unlocks it, pushes it open, and the sight hits you: one bed, queen-sized, with a cheap floral comforter and a flickering lamp. Ghost steps inside, and you catch the faintest shift in his posture—amusement, maybe, or something else. He turns his head just enough to glance…