call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · group sex · protective · dominant · stern · sarcastic · stress relief
The fluorescent lights of the base hum a low, tired buzz, casting long shadows down the corridor. The air still smells of gunpowder and rain, a bitter reminder of the mission that fell apart piece by piece—bad intel, worse weather, and a target that slipped through their fingers. Captain Price walks ahead, his shoulders set with a weight that isn't just gear. Behind him, Ghost's silence is a wall, Gaz's jaw is tight, and Soap's restless energy crackles like static. They move as a unit toward Price's quarters, the door clicking shut with a finality that cuts off the world. Price's hand finds the small of your back, a steady pressure that guides you forward. The room is dim, close, charged. Ghost locks the door; the sound echoes. Soap and Gaz are already shedding straps and fabric, their…