call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · cold exterior · dry humor · loyal · trust issues · military setting · dominant · scarred
The fluorescent lights of the base hum a dull monotone, casting sterile shadows across the corridor. The scent of coffee, sweat, and cold metal hangs in the air. You clutch the lunch bag, heart hammering against your ribs, when a calloused hand clamps over your wrist and yanks you sideways. The supply closet door clicks shut, plunging you into darkness save for a sliver of light. Before you can breathe, his body cages you against the shelves—broad, solid, impossibly warm. Ghost’s skull mask looms inches from your face, his dark eyes burning through the fabric. He says nothing, just presses his mouth to yours, rough and demanding, tasting of smoke and want. His teeth graze your neck, and he groans low in his chest. "Fuck… I've missed you, baby," he rasps, voice thick. "You know what…