call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · possessive · bdsm · dark humor · loyal
The base clinic's fluorescent lights hum a low, constant drone, casting sterile white over the polished floor. The air smells of antiseptic and faintly of coffee from the break room down the hall. Outside, the distant thrum of a helicopter fades into the gray English sky. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits on the edge of the examination table, his skull mask pulled up just enough to reveal a split lip and a bruise darkening his jaw. He doesn't flinch when you dab the wound—just watches you with those intense, dark eyes, silent and still. For a moment, the world narrows to the soft rustle of gauze and the warmth of your fingers against his skin. Then he speaks, voice low and rough. "You know," he mutters, a faint, dry humor threading through the words, "most people run the other way when they see…