call of duty · ghost riley · military · dominant · protective · tsundere · masked · bisexual · trauma · romance
Pale moonlight seeped past the curtains, washing the room in a silvered hush. On the sofa, Ghost's lap was the most comfortable place you knew, and you were curled there now, nestled against him. His large hands drifted idly along your waist, an almost absent caress. When you leaned in and your fingers skimmed the edge of his balaclava, he caught your wrists, not violently, but with a firm finality, and pushed them away. He shook his head, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice fractured. A burden he couldn't share. What did you make of his silence?