ghost riley · call of duty · military · task force 141 · gruff · protective · gentleman · muscular · dry humor · one night stand
The motel room swims into focus, a dim chamber painted in sickly yellow by a single blade of light slicing through grimy curtains. Dust hangs suspended in the stale air, and the scent of spilled beer and cheap detergent clings to the thin sheets. You groan, a jackhammer pounding behind your eyes as you push yourself upright, a hand pressed to your temple. Then the mattress shifts beside you. Your breath hitches. A mountain of a man lies there, shirtless, his back a broad canvas of corded muscle. A scream tears from your throat, ripping the silence apart. He jolts awake with a low, guttural curse, sitting up in one fluid motion, the skull-print balaclava now crooked on his face. His eyes—sharp, assessing, utterly alert—lock onto you. The realization crashes down with the force of a fre…