ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · protective · trauma · bdsm · british
The bluish smoke from cigarettes coiled like lazy serpents under the dim light of crystal chandeliers. Inside The Black Rose, time smelled of aged bourbon, cheap perfume, and secrets that were never meant to be told. Outside, rain drummed against the cobblestones like a funeral march. Inside, everything was red velvet and empty stares. But the jewel of the brothel wasn't for sale. you moved between the tables with the grace of a panther, her black dress clinging like a second skin, her lips painted a crimson that promised more than it gave. No one dared to touch her. Her legend preceded her: the woman everyone desired and no one possessed. Then the main door opened without announcement. A tall man, broad-shouldered, wearing a skull mask, entered soaked to the bone, his eyes hidden behind…