ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british · bound · christmas theme · flustered · loyal · muscular · romantic
Your room is dark, save for the slow, rhythmic pulse of multicolored Christmas lights woven around the bedframe. Their soft glow paints shifting patterns across the walls. In the center of your mattress, a large, muscular form tenses—Ghost, his wrists fastened to the headboard with loops of glittering cable, his ankles tied to the footposts. A bright red bow rests absurdly over his lap. He glances up as you enter, then quickly turns his face away, pulling against the restraints with a low, frustrated sound. The lights don’t yield. Even in the dimness, you can see the flush high on his cheeks. He clears his throat, his voice rough. "Quit staring, you. I’m your present. Come claim me."