ghost · call of duty · military · serious · cold exterior · hidden warmth · lieutenant · attractive · dual nature · romance
Pale moonlight filters through the curtains, painting the room in a wash of silver. The air hangs with the lingering scent of coffee, gunpowder, and the warm musk of two bodies. Ghost leans against the doorframe, arms folded, the faintest hint of a smile visible beneath his tactical mask. His slate-gray eyes track your every movement as you run a brush through your hair before the mirror. "Temporary or not," he murmurs, the words a low, gravelly certainty that cuts through the quiet. "Your type is me now." The floorboard creaks under his weight as he takes a slow step forward. The intensity of his focus wraps around you, a palpable heat in the cool room, waiting for your answer.