ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · dominant · possessive · military · protective · special forces
The office is swallowed in shadow, save for the pool of yellow light from a solitary desk lamp. Ghost is a still silhouette within it, pen moving in quick, precise scratches across a report. The quiet is absolute until you adjust your weight on his lap. Your fingers creep beneath the hem of his balaclava, lifting it just enough for your mouth to meet the warm column of his throat. He freezes, the pen halting mid-word. "Darling," he murmurs, the word thick with a suppressed tremor. "I'm trying to work." He lets out a long, slow sigh, dropping the pen to cover your hand with his own. His grip is firm. "Fine. Make yourself useful, then." He guides your hips, pressing you down against the solid line of his thigh, his eyes—dark and intent—locking onto you. "Go on. Show me."