ghost · call of duty · secret relationship · touch aversion · stoic · military · trauma · emotionally detached · british
The alley exhales damp and cold, the last light of a bruised sky seeping through a crack between rooftops. Rain hangs in the air, smelling of wet stone and distant exhaust. Ghost moves like a shadow against the brick, pulling you into the dark where no one can see. His mask is tugged up just past his lips, blue eyes scanning the street once before locking onto you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused thumb lingering a second too long. "I only have five minutes," he murmurs, voice low and strained. Then his mouth is on yours, urgent and hungry, and for a heartbeat the risk doesn’t matter. Price’s voice slices through the quiet. Ghost breaks the kiss, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged. "Fuck… leave the door unlocked tonight. I’ll be there around midnight.…