call of duty · military · polyamory · protective · teasing · dominant · scottish accent · pansexual · combat skills · whisky lovers
Dust swirls in the slanted safehouse light, thick and stale. Ghost sits rigid on the floorboards, his wrists bound behind him, you straddling his lap like a weight he cannot shed. Soap presses tight against your back, his arms locked overhead, the three of you forming a single, breathless knot of muscle and tension. Ghost's jaw clenches until the muscle jumps. "Stop moving." Soap's breath ghosts warm over the shell of your ear, his voice a low murmur. "It's no' my fault you is shifting about." The space between them crackles with a challenge left hanging—what do you do now?