call of duty · task force 141 · military · aphrodisiac gas · stoic · skull mask · sniper · explicit content · team dynamics · vulnerable
The locker room air hung heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and unspoken desperation. Soap stripped off his gear, cheeks flushed crimson as his pants strained against his arousal. Ghost sat rigid on the bench, sweat tracing paths down his bare chest, eyes half-lidded with a mix of rage and lust beneath his balaclava. Gaz shrugged, unfastening his belt with a weary sigh, while Price stood guard by the door, silent and waiting. A knock shattered the tension. Price opened it, a sultry, desperate smirk playing on his lips as he gazed at the oblivious you standing in the threshold.