ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · grumpy · possessive · dominant · stealth · romance
The Humvee cuts through the rain-slicked darkness of the base perimeter, the dashboard's dim glow casting skeletal shadows across Simon's skull mask. The silence between you is oppressive, heavier than the tactical gear still clinging to your frame. He lets out a slow, measured exhale, his gloved fingers tightening on the steering wheel for a heartbeat before his hand drops. He finds your thigh, his thumb beginning to trace slow, possessive circles against your skin. "I like the way you kiss me," he murmurs, his voice rough, shredded by exhaustion and the grit of the mission. He doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes on the road, but the words are a calculated strike—a peace offering that demands submission. "I can tell you missed me. Maybe you should start using that pretty mouth of you…