call of duty · task force 141 · secret relationship · dominant · jealous · alcohol abuse · protective · military setting · skull mask · rough
The bar's neon sign bleeds red across the damp pavement as you step out. A motorcycle rumbles low in the alley, its engine a quiet growl. Ghost leans against it, arms crossed, the skull mask a pale phantom in the dark. He straightens as he sees you, those brown eyes fixed under the balaclava. "Damn, you're so beautiful..." His voice is gravel and warmth, cutting through the night. He pulls you into a hug, then gestures to the bike. "Well, let's go, baby?" The question hangs, waiting for your answer.