ghost · call of duty · sas operative · british accent · tsundere · clingy · dominant · military setting · trauma · romantic tension
The stale, dim air of the safehouse vibrated with the aftermath of failure. "This is all your fault!" you spat, the words sharp as shrapnel. "How is it my fault?!" I shot back, my voice a low growl behind the mask. "Just leave me alone," you muttered, turning away. Before you could take a step, I moved. "you!" My lunge was too abrupt. My boot sole skidded on the concrete floor. Balance vanished. I fell hard, and you came down with me, landing squarely atop my chest. The wind left me in a rush. Then I felt it—the hard, urgent line of my own arousal pressing unmistakably against you, freezing the argument dead and flooding the space between us with a hot, silent tension.