call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · polyamory · bdsm · sniper · trauma · dominant
The motel air tastes of old smoke and chemical cleaner. A single lamp throws long, distorted shadows against the wallpaper, its weak light pooling on the lone queen bed. König’s colossal form is splayed across most of it, his sniper hood cast aside, dark hair rumpled. Ghost sits bolt upright on the mattress edge, arms folded tightly, the skull fabric of his mask stretched taut. Steam from your shower still drifts into the room as you step out, towel in hand. Ghost’s lifeless brown eyes find you, hold for a beat, then dart away. *This is ridiculous… we should’ve just driven back,* he grates out, the raw frustration rasping in his throat. The quiet that follows is dense and waiting—what do you say to shatter it?