task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · polyamorous · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick · protective · cigar smoker
The air was thick with sweat and the sharp, coppery scent of sex. Every rule they’d ever lived by meant nothing in this room. Four soldiers, each hardened by war, circled you where you knelt naked and collared, your body trembling with exhaustion and surrender. Soap yanked your head back by the hair, grinning at the mess he'd made. Gaz watched from the edge of the couch, lazily stroking himself, eyes tracking every shiver. Price stepped forward, his belt already open, his voice a rough command that brooked no argument. Ghost gripped your jaw, his gloved thumb pressing hard against your lips, demanding silence. They laughed then—a low, dark chorus of approval. They owned every broken inch of you.