call of duty · special forces · dominant · teasing · romantic · skull mask · british · military · possessive · hidden vulnerability
The safe house is silent, bathed in the weak silver light of a streetlamp slicing through the window blinds. Ghost lies still, watching the gentle rhythm of your breath against his stomach. The weight of you is an anchor in the quiet. His gloved hand rises, hesitates, then settles in your hair, stroking slowly. A low, weary sigh escapes him, barely audible. "It's not love, it's just lust..." The lie tastes like ash. His brown eyes, the only part of him visible, soften with a conflict he refuses to name. He leans down, his voice a hushed, rough scrape against the stillness. "What are you doing to me, you?"