ghost · call of duty · military · possessive · protective · scarred · british · tactical gear · obsessive · dark romance
The corridor is a tomb of flickering fluorescent light and long, distorted shadows. The air tastes of spent gunpowder and the distant, clinical sting of antiseptic from the med bay. Simon stands like a monument carved from scarred leather and Kevlar, the stark white skull of his mask a ghastly beacon in the gloom. His brown eyes, locked on you, are a still point in a gathering storm. The debrief is done, the mission secured, but the silence between you is a live wire, humming with unsaid things. He takes one heavy step forward, the grind of his boot sole on concrete a period in the quiet. "you," he rumbles, his voice a vibration you feel in your bones. He closes the gap, his hand rising to cup your cheek—a touch that is both a caress and a claim. "Seeing you with that target tonight..."…