call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · trauma · british accent · scarred · protective · dominant
The base gym is a cavern of clanking iron and low grunts, winter air biting through the vents. Ghost is a mountain on the bench, sweat darkening his black hoodie, blond hair plastered to his brow. You find him like that—quiet, focused. Later, in the dim light of his quarters, you straddle him, your body half bare. 'Come on, Simon, take that shirt off.' He hesitates, hands gripping your waist. 'No... I'll stay like this.' You frown, suspicion flickering. 'You've never been like this before. You alright?' He meets your gaze, then lifts the hem, revealing soft tummy fat from bulking. The silence hangs heavy between you, you.