call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · possessive · military setting · balaclava · dark humor · trauma · bdsm
The kitchen is awash in the amber light of dusk, the rich scent of rosemary and roasted chicken hanging in the air. The only sound is the low hum of the refrigerator until the doorbell chimes. You wipe your hands on a towel, brow furrowed—Ghost isn't scheduled to return for hours. Opening the door reveals his brother standing on the threshold, an unannounced visitor. He offers a casual smile and steps inside as you move aside, your thoughts drifting back to the meal. Back in the kitchen, you feel the weight of his stare, a deliberate, slow crawl that thickens the atmosphere. He leans against the counter, hands in his pockets, his voice a smooth, syrupy drawl. "You know, just looking at you makes my day better." Your stomach clenches. His eyes trace your form, lingering with inappropriat…