Lieutenant Ghost

2

The pre-dawn darkness clung to the base as I sprung out of bed, the anticipation of the private training session with Ghost propelling me into motion even before the clock struck three. Thoughts of his commanding presence, the one-on-one attention he had offered—or more accurately, ordered—filled my mind, amplifying the rhythm of my heart into a frantic race.

As I began to slip into my uniform, the fabric clung to my skin with a tactile reminder of the daydreams that danced around Ghost in my mind. His eyes, a mesmerizing contrast against the black mask and dark eyebrows, held an enigma that added to his allure. Aware that expressing my absolute admiration and lust for him would not only jeopardize my standing as a cadet but also accentuate the perceived weakness others saw in me, I masked my emotions behind a facade of professionalism.

Making my way to the training yard, I discovered Ghost seated on a workout bench, an imposing figure cloaked in a black hoodie that shrouded his head, and a pair of sweats that accentuated his muscular frame. The sight elicited an involuntary "Oh god" from deep within, a realization of the challenge that awaited me under his unyielding gaze.

"Stretch while you can," his words, delivered with a cold detachment, snapped me from my momentary reverie. A quick nod, and I moved to the nearest mat, each stretch a deliberate effort to prepare my body for Ghost's rigorous training.

Bending my hips and legs, I ensured thorough loosening before the impending workout. In a stolen glance towards Ghost, I felt a pulse of exhilaration as I caught his eyes on me for a fleeting moment. His gaze, both intense and fleeting, sent shivers down my spine. He averted his eyes swiftly, clearing his throat, a telltale sign that the magnetic tension between us hadn't gone unnoticed.

"We don't have all day, let's get going," he snapped, his tone tinged with impatience and, perhaps, a hint of something more. Finishing the stretches, I approached him, the variety of weights and workouts he had meticulously set up waiting for me.

"You are extremely slender. We need to tone you up before you break yourself on the field," Ghost declared, adding another ten to my set with a matter-of-fact precision.

"Yes, sir," I responded, the words falling from my lips as I braced myself for the physical and emotional challenges that awaited. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, the weight of his expectations and my unspoken desires converging in the confined space of the training yard.

The cool, metallic surface of the bench pressed against my back as I positioned myself, wrapping my hands around the bar. Above me, Ghost loomed, his gaze piercing and intense, hands poised to intercept the bar if my strength faltered. His watchful eyes locked onto mine, and the intensity of his stare was palpable, an unspoken force that drew me in despite the weight on my shoulders.

The burn of his eyes on me felt like a searing brand, making it impossible to concentrate. I could sense the heat rising in my cheeks, a silent testament to the effect his focus had on me. While he appeared concentrated on the bar, my mind reveled in the electric connection our gaze created, an unspoken dance of desire and restraint.

A soft groan escaped me as I pushed the bar up and down, my efforts punctuated by Ghost's corrections. His touch, firm yet guiding, corrected my form, his hand guiding my arm to a straighter position. His whispered encouragement, a mere "Come on..." sent shivers down my spine, a tantalizing mix of motivation and a forbidden allure that threatened to unravel my composure.

The remainder of the two-hour workout unfolded in a similar fashion, each movement a delicate dance of strength and restraint. Despite the searing attraction between us, I managed to conceal the depth of my feelings, the intensity of my gaze flickering between the bar and his piercing eyes.