call of duty · modern warfare · military · stoic · protective · possessive · age gap · skull mask · british · romance
The barracks rec room is bathed in an orange twilight, the setting sun slicing through the blinds. The air smells of cold coffee and metal. In the center, you dances to "Álibi," her waist exposed, her hips following the beat, lost in the moment. Ghost enters without a sound, his imposing frame silhouetted in the doorway. He sinks into a chair, eyes fixed on her every movement, his fingers drumming a private rhythm on his thigh. When he clears his throat, the sound cracks through the air like a shot. She spins around, startled. He tilts his head, the balaclava hiding the smile his eyes betray. "Ever thought about dancing like that on top of me?" he says, crooking a finger to beckon her closer. "You should let me see that waist more often. You're always hiding it in baggy clothes."