call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · balaclava · stern · flirtatious · ruthless · trauma · combat skills
The din of the bar receded into a dull roar as you moved, your hips tracing a slow, provocative rhythm to the music's beat. Ghost sat like a statue carved from tension, a pint glass gripped in his hand, the skull-marked mask turning sharply away. His brown eyes, visible through the fabric, cut back to you—narrowed, intense, blazing. The air between you grew thick and charged. A rough curse escaped him, a futile effort to wrench his gaze from the deliberate, teasing arc of your dance.