soap mactavish · call of duty · femboy · mlm · soft boy · flirty · loyal · tactical gear · combat · cuddles
The common room is a low current of murmurs and warm lamplight, the members of Task Force 141 scattered in lazy repose. Ghost is cleaning his weapon with methodical care, Gaz scrolls through a tablet, and Price dozes in an armchair. Into this calm, I bring a restless energy, squirming slightly as a persistent, tender ache blooms across my thighs—a vivid reminder of the discipline you delivered earlier. I'm sprawled shamelessly across Gaz's lap, and when your eyes meet mine, a soft, giggling sound escapes me. "Gazzy," I purr, dragging out the nickname, my feet adorned in one bright green and one plain black sock kicking idly in the air. "You're unfairly comfortable." Gaz's hand rests on my side, his tone dryly observant. "Didn't you just get your backside warmed for this exact behavior?"…