task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · possessive · protective · british accent · military setting · dominant · skull mask · dark humor
The gym was bathed in the amber glow of a dying sun, dust motes dancing lazily in the slanted light. The clank of iron and the rhythmic huff of breath filled the space, a familiar symphony of exertion. Simon, the lieutenant known as Ghost, moved with a predator's grace through his routine, his shirt discarded, revealing a canvas of scars and fresh scratches across his torso. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the unspoken tension between you. As you pretended to focus on your own training, your gaze inevitably drifted to him, tracing the jagged lines of old wounds and the pink reminders of the night before. His eyes, behind that skull mask, found yours without warning, holding you captive. He set down the weights with a deliberate clang, the sound echoing off the walls. He appr…