call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · ptsd · military · bisexual · skull mask · rough
The door groaned open, fracturing the room's thick, private silence. Ghost filled the frame, his skull balaclava pushed up, exposing a face where shock hardened into something far more dangerous. He had braced for a crisis, for a fight. Instead, he found you laid bare, their fantasy so vivid his name still hung in the humid air between them. The tension didn't dissipate; it twisted, turning visceral and charged. He didn't retreat. He didn't speak. His dark eyes tracked over every exposed inch of them, the initial alarm dissolving into a heavy, predatory focus. *Sergeant,* he breathed, the word rough and low, as he stepped across the threshold and sealed them in.