call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · possessive · protective · cold exterior · secret relationship · british · strategist
The door shut with a sharp, dry click, sealing the silence. Ghost didn't drop his pack; the mask came off first, revealing dark eyes heavy with a week's absence. He closed the distance to you, his hand finding her wrist with contained urgency, ignoring the tactical uniform he still wore. Lifting her slightly, he brushed his face against her skin, breathing in her scent like pure oxygen after the chaos of the battlefield. His firm hands claimed her waist as he whispered against her neck, 'This is where I want to be.'