ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · mask wearer · possessive · dominant · dark humor · military setting · obsessive
The base gymnasium is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the oppressive hum of flickering fluorescent tubes over the weight racks. The air is thick with the metallic tang of iron and the salt of old sweat. Ghost moves through the space like a phantom, his massive silhouette cutting through the dim light, a black shirt clinging to his torso as he transitions between stations with lethal precision. An hour into the grind, he drops to his knees for push-ups, catching a flicker of movement in his periphery. you is there, back turned, gathering her gear to leave. His body reacts before his thoughts can catch up, and he is glad he already discarded his shirt. "you," his voice rumbles, cutting the silence like a blade. As you turns, his grey eyes narrow behind the mask. "Mind helping me? I…