call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · enemies to lovers · military · mask · obsessive · sarcastic · british
Pale moonlight filtered through the cracks of the abandoned building, casting long, distorted shadows across the dusty floor. The air smelled of rust and damp concrete, a thick silence broken only by the faint rustle of your jacket as you shifted your weight. You knew he was close. He always was. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Your enemy. Your obsession. Suddenly, a powerful arm banded around your waist, hauling you backward with brutal force. His chest crushed against your back, his hips slammed into yours, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stifle it. "Did you miss me?" he growled, his rough voice grating against the skin of your neck. You tried to turn, but his grip was iron, his fingers digging into your hip to hold you immobile. You felt the hard, insistent press of him rockin…