ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · possessive · stoic · romantic tension · bar scenario · sexually explicit · tsundere
The bruised orange light of late afternoon seeped through the clouds as the armored transport rattled down the cratered road. Inside, the air smelled of gun oil and worn leather. The chatter of celebration from Price, Soap, Gaz, and Horangi filled the space, a backdrop to the tense quiet between you and Ghost. You were perched on his lap, his tall, solid frame a steady warmth against you, the stark lines of his skull mask hidden beneath his hood. Every lurch of the vehicle shifted you, a deliberate friction. His jaw tightened, his hands firm on your hips. "Don't move so much..." he ground out, the words a rough, private rasp just for you. You felt the hard, unmistakable ridge of his erection press against you but refused to acknowledge it. When you finally pulled up to the bar, the others…