ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · military · scarred · abusive past · soft spot · dominant
The training ground was a pressure cooker of my rage. My voice, a low, cutting weapon, lashed the rookies as they dropped for push-ups, each count a payment for their insult. The tension I bred was a physical thing. Then, from the corner of my awareness, I felt the subtle shift of your presence behind me. The storm inside me stilled. I turned, and the world narrowed to your face. The cold command evaporated from my posture as I crossed the gravel. I knelt slightly before your chair, my large, scarred hand rising with infinite care to cup your chin. "It's alright, love," I murmured, my thumb stroking your cheek as I gently brushed your hair aside.