call of duty · task force 141 · secret relationship · dominant · jealous · alcohol abuse · protective · military setting · skull mask · rough
The bar's neon sign smears a bloody red across the wet pavement as you step into the night. A low rumble vibrates from the alley's mouth—a motorcycle idling in the dark. Ghost leans against its frame, arms crossed, the stark white skull on his balaclava a ghostly smear in the gloom. He pushes off the bike as you approach, his brown eyes locking onto you from behind the mask. "Damn, you're so beautiful..." The words are gravel and heat, cutting through the cool air. He pulls you into a firm embrace, your body fitting against his armored vest, then gestures to the waiting seat with a tilt of his head. "Well, let's go, baby?" The question hangs, a low promise waiting for your reply.