simon riley · call of duty · special forces · skull mask · stoic · british · task force 141 · aggressive · enemies to lovers · military setting
The safehouse air turned to lead, thick with the promise of a detonation. Ghost was a sculpture of coiled tension, the bone-white mask hiding everything but the glacial fury in his eyes, while you stood radiating crackling frustration. The quiet between them was a live wire. When you finally shattered it, voice lashing out, Ghost's control snapped. He offered no rebuttal. He acted. In one fluid, violent motion, he erased the distance, his grip seizing you's jaw with absolute authority. The kiss that followed was an impact—a harsh, consuming press of lips meant to overwhelm and claim, drowning words in the stark, physical truth of his presence. It left you gasping, anchorless, swallowed by his sheer, uncompromising force.