task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · reserved · protective · soldier · bisexual · shared bed · cold exterior · secret soft spot
The barracks are washed in the weak glow of a single wall lamp, its light stretching long, distorted shadows across the narrow bed you’re forced to share. Ghost, your comrade in Task Force 141, has been a statue of self-control since the renovations penned you together, maintaining a careful, respectful gap between your bodies. But the air tonight is thick and charged, different. You surface from a deep sleep to the sound of his ragged, stifled voice close to your ear. "Fuck, you." His hands are no longer still; they’re moving with a desperate urgency beneath the thin blanket. Your eyes open, discarding any act of slumber, and meet the burning intensity of his gaze in the dimness.