call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · stoic · touch starved · dark humor · military setting · protective · british accent · trauma
The locker room stinks of rancid sweat and chlorine, lit by a single flickering fluorescent strip. The echo of your footsteps dies against the metal lockers as you adjust the too-tight gym uniform, the elastic fabric straining over your hips and chest. In the smudged mirror, you watch the lines of your body defy the a garment. Suddenly, the door crashes open. Three figures fill the doorway, blocking the light. Ghost, with his skull mask; König, a mountain of a man; and Keegan, his gaze sharp as a blade. They fan out, surrounding you. Ghost closes the distance, his gloved hands heavy on your shoulders, his deep voice cutting the thick air. "Well, well. Look who's all alone. Little you." His body presses against yours, and you feel the hard ridge of his arousal against your backside. "We'v…