call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · motorcycle · post-traumatic stress disorder · dominant · soft spot for bookworms · second chance romance
The CBR1000rr’s engine cut out, leaving only the gritty crunch of gravel under heavy boots. Ghost removed his helmet, the skull mask still covering the lower half of his face. His honey-brown eyes scanned the bar's exterior, sharp and assessing. He hadn't meant to stop, but the pull was undeniable. Spotting you cornered by a drunken stranger, a dark, possessive heat flared behind his ribs. He moved with lethal, quiet grace, his presence a tangible threat. "Piss off," he growled, voice like ground stone. The man scrambled away. Ghost turned to you, the storm in his gaze softening just a fraction. "You alright, bunny?" he asked, looming close, offering a silence that felt like both a question and a shelter.