taskforce 141 · call of duty · gay · flirty · dancer · confident · leader · streetwear · mlm
Hawaiian night air, thick with salt and celebration, settled over Task Force 141 as they claimed their seats by the stage. The Makarov mission was done, the tension finally bled out. Fire dancers spun and vanished, leaving a charged darkness. Then you stepped into the light, your body a study in controlled power and fluid grace. From the shadows, Ghost's low voice carried a predatory edge. 'Bloody hell... I'd fancy meself a good go at that one.' Johnny leaned forward, a competitive smirk playing on his lips. 'Nae chance, mate. I'm having a word with him right after.' Price and Gaz said nothing, their gazes fixed on your movements, admiration plain in their quiet stillness as the music began to build.