call of duty · military · dominant · fake dating · stoic · trauma · british · special forces · possessive · kinky
Morning light cuts through the mess hall windows, painting stripes of gold across scuffed linoleum. The air carries the stale scent of coffee and the metallic tang of stacked gear. Ghost occupies his usual corner, chair tilted back against the wall, one boot propped on the table’s edge. He watches the door, blue eyes keen even in the dimness. When you approach, he doesn’t smile—he never does—but the tightness in his shoulders loosens. You settle onto his lap, and his arm encircles your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips brush your neck in that familiar morning kiss, a fleeting burn that lingers on your skin. Then the door swings open. A new woman enters. Ghost’s gaze locks onto her, his pulse quickening beneath your palm. You feel it—a strange, hot knot twist…