Nik still didn’t put the book down, but the hand on his stomach shifted slightly, thumb grazing along Price’s wrist in a lazy, absentminded touch. That small, unconscious bit of affection had Price’s chest going warm, a deep, settled thing curling under his ribs. He kissed his way down, cheek brushing against Nik’s jaw, lips grazing the corner of his mouth.

That earned him a glance, sharp but not unwelcoming. “You are in a mood,” Nik observed, though there was no complaint in it, only quiet amusement.

Price grinned, pressing his weight forward, nudging Nik until there was nowhere for him to go but down, until the book slipped from his grip entirely and onto the floor. “Yeah, maybe.”

Nik exhaled a laugh, letting Price crowd into his space, the shift in weight naturally pulling him to sit up straighter. His hands found Price’s waist instinctively, steadying him as Price settled right into his lap, slotting against him easily. The kisses deepened, slow but sure, Price’s fingers threading through Nik’s hair as he tilted his head up, coaxing, unhurried.

Nik let out a low sound, soft and indulgent, his hands resting warm against Price’s back. But there was something else, something in the way he wasn’t quite leaning in the way he usually did. Price could feel it before he could name it—the slight hesitation, the way Nik responded but never took the lead, the small, nearly imperceptible pause between kisses.

It took him another breath to realise.

Nik wasn’t quite in the mood.

Not in the way Price was.

Price eased up just a fraction, pulling back enough to meet Nik’s gaze properly, studying him. Nik looked back at him, a small flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, something Price recognised but hadn’t quite placed yet.

That was when he understood.

Price let his hands slow, still resting against Nik’s jaw, thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. He could feel the tension beneath them, just barely there—like a string pulled too tight, not quite snapping, but not entirely at ease either.

He pressed one more kiss to Nik’s mouth, softer this time, less intent behind it. Then another, trailing the last of his affection along Nik’s jaw before murmuring against his skin, “You alright?”

Nik exhaled, hands tightening slightly where they rested on Price’s back. His mouth pressed into something wry, something just shy of apologetic. “Yeah,” he said, and Price could tell it was mostly the truth—but not entirely.

Price tilted his head, studying him. “Don’t look it.”

Nik huffed out a short laugh, but there was no real humour in it. He shifted a little beneath him, hands rubbing slow, absentminded circles into Price’s lower back. “Just—” He exhaled again, shaking his head slightly. “My body is not responding how I want it to. My apologies Mishka,”

He didn’t move away. Didn’t roll off Nik’s lap or pull back as if this changed anything, because it didn’t. Not in any way that mattered. Instead, he smoothed his hands down Nik’s shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them, and leaned in just a little, forehead brushing against Nik’s.

“That alright?” he murmured, voice low but steady, nothing teasing in it, just a quiet offer to let Nik set the pace, to let him take a breath.

Nik’s hands gripped his waist, grounding. He let his eyes close briefly before opening them again, meeting Price’s gaze with something grateful in them, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. “Yes,” he admitted. “I-uh–,”

“I know.” Price interrupted. 

Nik sighed again, this time more at ease, hands rubbing warm against Price’s back. “Sorry, lyubov.”

Price scoffed, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered against his lips. “Not something to be sorry about.”

Nik didn’t answer right away, but some of the tension melted out of him, his arms curling around Price’s back, holding him there as if to prove to himself that this was still alright. And it was. Of course, it was.

Price let him sit with it, let the moment settle between them like the steady rhythm of their breathing, warm and unhurried.

Eventually, Price smirked slightly, nosing at Nik’s temple. “Still think you look good like this, though.”

Nik let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”

Price grinned, kissing him again—because, really, that was the truth of it. “Can you tell me when to stop? I wanna try somethin’, yeah love?” 

“Always.” Nik breathed against Price’s lips. 

Price hummed, letting his fingers drift along Nik’s jaw, the rasp of stubble familiar under his touch. He tilted Nik’s head up slightly, capturing his lips again—slow, unhurried, not pushing, just feeling.

Nik sighed against him, the tension in his shoulders loosening further as Price traced lazy circles over his skin, letting the warmth between them settle into something comfortable. The moment didn’t need fixing, didn’t need salvaging. It was already good—just the two of them, close like this, the low hum of the television still playing in the background.

Price shifted slightly in Nik’s lap, hands smoothing down his sides, the fabric of his shirt bunching under Nik’s grip. His touch was steady, grounding, and Price could feel him relaxing under it, the way Nik’s breathing evened out, the slow drag of his fingers against his back.

“Still alright?” Price murmured, lips brushing against the shell of Nik’s ear.

Nik exhaled, a hint of a smile in his voice. “You do not need to keep asking.”

Price chuckled, trailing his mouth along the line of Nik’s throat, pressing another kiss there, then another. He felt the faint shudder that ran through Nik’s body, the way his grip on Price’s waist tightened just a little.

“Let me take care of you, then,” Price murmured, voice lower now, something softer laced beneath the words.

Nik’s breath hitched—just slightly—but his hands never wavered where they held him. “Mishka…” he murmured, and Price could feel the weight behind it, the quiet trust.

He kissed him again, deeper this time, fingers curling into Nik’s hair, coaxing, guiding, letting the warmth between them start to build again, slow and careful.

He felt Nik’s large paws untuck the hem of his shirt and start hiking it up, reluctantly pulling away from Nik’s addicting warmth to get his shirt off and chucked at the floor. Nik didn’t waste any time and went right for Price’s belt, opening it and unbuttoning his trousers. 

The rough calluses on Nik’s palms scraped against his skin in a familiar way as Nik ran his hands all over the newly exposed skin. Nik brought his hand back up to Price’s chest, squeezing and groping at any skin available before finding his way to Price’s nipples, his hips jerking with every pinch and flick. 

“Always so sensitive for me,” He groaned against Price’s lips. 

“Mmm, just you, Nik. Let me–Ah!” Price was interrupted by Nik wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking with just the right amount of pressure. His grip in Nik’s hair tightened and he dragged him back up, connecting their foreheads together. “Let me get you out of these, please.” He heaved out, gesturing at Nik’s soft sweatpants. 

Price slid off of Nik’s lap and let him readjust against the couch as he knelt in between those gorgeous thick thighs. 

“John, as beautiful as you are on your knees I really do not see why you are down there,” Price huffed a laugh at that, clearly Nik has no idea what’s in store for him this evening. 

“Just sit back, let me take care of you, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Nik responded, still unsure what exactly his lover had in mind but they always found a way to have fun, he had to trust Price with this part of him too. 

“Okay,” Price started to tug down Nik’s sweatpants and underwear in one go, pausing to let Nik raise his hips and trailing his hands all the way from his thighs to his calves, slowly and deliberately taking them off. Once they pooled around Nik’s ankles Price tugged them off gently and nudged them aside. He took a second to just admire his partner, laid out like this, naked and so trusting it was intoxicating. 

Now that his sweatpants were off, Price could touch freely without the abstraction of fabric in his way, and he did just that. Running his hands along skin and feeling every inch of skin as his hands went higher up he could feel the hair thinning on Nik’s inner thighs before getting coarse again closer to his cock. Price just repeated this motion a couple of times, he couldn’t help himself. No matter how many times he’d done this, been on his knees for Nik, memorised every inch of his skin, it would never be enough for his greedy hands. 

“You ever put the lube away from a couple days ago? Or should I go fishing in our couch?”

“Ah, you may have to use your skills and find it, Captain.” At Nik’s sheepish reply, Price dug his hand in between the cushions until he grasped the bottle and pulled it out. Setting it beside his knee for later he brought his hands back to Nik’s thighs. 

Wrapping his hands around them, Price yanked Nik forward, eliciting a surprised yelp from the man above him. He shuffled forward a little and looked up at Nik as he opened his mouth and dragged the tip of his tongue from Nik’s inner thigh, up his sac and all the way to the tip of his soft cock. 

“John, fuck, you have to know, you look, absolutely sinful but…it may not work,” 

Price pulled back slightly, “I’m not trying to get you hard, Nik. I just want to make you feel good, let me do that. Please.” 

Nik nodded at that, deciding to get out of his head and let Price do what he wants. What he wants is rarely ever deserving of a complaint from Nik, why should that change now? 

Price could see Nik’s whole body slowly unwind as he relaxed into the couch, tilting his head back and slowing down his breathing. Price smirked up at Nik through his lashes,clearly pleased, it sent a shiver down the Russians spine. 

Price just continued running his hands over as much of Nik’s body as he could reach even as he tilted his head towards Nik’s balls, mouthing at the skin there, inhaling his intoxicating scent that somehow always lingered even after a shower. Price felt his own cock twitch just at the smell of his partner, nuzzling further into the crease where Nik’s cock and his thigh met. Licking and tasting that area, sucking a teasing mark into the thin skin there before moving upwards. 

Nik was still soft but that didn’t deter Price, he just wrapped his lips around the soft length of his partner and sucked the head into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of Nik in his mouth, making sure to pull back and then sink further down, getting Nik’s cock wet to avoid any discomfort as he continued to bob his head. 

Price suddenly took Nik all the way down his throat, swallowing around the tip of his cock and burying his nose into the thick, dark patch of hair at the base of Nik’s cock. Inhaling deeply, relaxing his throat, Price reached blindly by his knee for the bottle of lube he had left there earlier. Sucking gently around Nik’s cock to keep him distracted and to keep those soft sounds coming from above him flowing, Price uncapped their lube, squeezed a small amount of it into his hand and rubbed his fingers together to spread it around. 

He lowered his shoulders and rounded his back enough to get Niks legs over his shoulders, Price straightened, bringing Nik's legs up with him slightly startling the other but Price just kept up the soft, slow bobbing of his head. 

He wrapped his dry hand around Nik's thigh gently kneading at the muscle and fat there, the fingers covered in lube pressed against Nik's perineum, probing softly at the skin there. 

"Mm, feels good, John," Was heard above him as a hand gripped the hairs on the top of Price's head, trying to speed up the slow, lazy pace Price had set. Price wanted to keep this gentle and soft for Nik but the sound of him, the feel of him, the smell of him made that quite the challenge. 

Instead of speeding up however, he decided to move his finger further along to nudge gently against Nik's opening. Spreading the warmed up lube around before slowly inching the tip of his finger in. Nik gasped above him at the feeling, spreading his legs further and melting into the couch. The movement forced Price further onto Nik's cock, choking him slightly, Price groaned at the feeling before pulling off to get some air in his lungs. 

He took the opportunity to bite around Nik's thighs, to suck some light marks into the thin skin of his inner thigh. Price moved back to Nik's balls, licking at them as he pushed his finger further inside of Nik. 

Price started thrusting his finger in and out and Nik, slowly and gently fucking him, working him up to the second relatively quickly. He nudged the second one in next to the first, gently pushing in, feeling the walls around his fingers tighten then relax around him. 

Price trailed his tongue across Nik's cock to get it back in his mouth, feeling it twitch and leak under his tongue was intoxicating, knowing his partner was enjoying this even if he wasn't hard was heady. Or maybe that was just what being in between Nik's thighs does to him. 

His fingers pushed in then pulled out gently, easing in so carefully until they were fully inside Nik. Now, Price could actually start fucking Nik. He started thrusting his fingers in faster and moving them around inside Nik until a particular spot had Nik moaning out his name, brokenly stuttering around some praise for Price. 

He kept going, massaging that spot, bobbing his head and swallowing around Nik's soft cock. The man above him groaning and moaning in a mix of Russian and English. Price's name, his rank, anything to let him know he needed to keep going. 

Price himself wasn't faring any better, his own neglected cock twitching with every pull of his hair, every groaned out piece of praise. His focus fully on the man under him, on making him feel as good as possible. Price's hips kept stuttering and jerking, the friction from his trousers digging into him, a mix of pleasure/pain that felt achingly good. 

Suddenly Nik's moaning got more frantic. "Mishka, please, please—ah—keep going, just like that. Fuck! I—," 

Price could feel Nik's cock twitching inside his mouth, his hole fluttering around his fingers before tightening, stopping Price's shallow thrusts, forcing him to just keep moving his fingers inside of him, stroking that spot inside that had Nik so incoherent. 

"I think I can—yes, yes, yeah, fuck, John!" Nik gasped above him, warning Price if he wanted to pull off. He was tugging at Price's soft locks trying to push him away, then pushing him lower. 

Price swallowed around Nik and kept that same motion on his prostate until he felt Nik's cock twitch one final time and then his mouth was flooded with the taste of his partner. He really wasn't sure if Nik would even come when he got down on the floor but the reward of having made Nik come while he was soft was almost enough to push himself over the edge. Moaning around the length in his mouth, he kept his ministrations going, not stopping the movement of his mouth or his fingers, prolonging Nik's orgasm as long as he possibly could. 

He kept going even as Nik started twitching above him, groaning from overstimulation. 

Nik slurred above him, "John, fuck, enough, please." 

Price took pity on him, pulling back, making a show of licking his lips even as he brought his mouth back to Nik's thighs. Sucking even more marks into his skin as he pulled his fingers out, making sure not to touch his prostate anymore. Nik hissed above him at the feeling. 

Price finally actually pulled away, not before pressing a couple kisses across Nik's legs, lowering them gently from around his shoulders. 

"So?" 

"So?" He chuckled, "So, my love, you have completely melted my brain. Surely you can see that?" Nik slurred out, he sounded a little drunk even. But then, he looked down and saw Price. 

Price who had tears collecting on his lashline, Price who's hair was sticking up in about a million ways. Price who's lips were red and swollen, spit slick chin shining in the dim light of their living room. His hard cock leaking into his pants leaving nothing to the imagination about how worked up he was. Really, it was his eyes that did Nik in, they looked so far away, that piercing blue gaze clouded with lust. 

Nik sprung into action. He dragged Price back up, manhandling him into his lap, eliciting a yelp from Price. He tugged the waistband of his pants down, freeing his cock. 

"Mmmph! You don't have to, love" Price said against Nik's lips, hand grabbing his wrist to stop him. "I just wanted to make you feel good." 

"You did, solnyshko, so good, really. Now, can I please touch you?" 

"Alright. Yeah, go ahead," He sighed out. 

Nik took that as his go-ahead to wrap his hand around Price's cock again, not taking the time to tease him at all just started moving his hand. He let Price fuck into his fist as he pleased, the lewd, wet sounds that were a result of pleasuring Nik echoed in the room. 

"Won't last long. Didn't realise how worked up I was,"

"Let go whenever you want, John."

"God, you're so good at that. Know exactly what I need." Nik pulled him into a searing kiss for that one. Tasting himself on Price's tongue was always his favourite part of this, knowing exactly what they tasted like together. 

Nik rubbed a hand up over his back, into his hair, dragging it back to his chest to flick at a nipple. He kept his hand moving over Price's cock, not slowing down for a moment, matching Price's thrusts until the man above him started shivering and panting into his mouth more than kissing him. 

"Yeah, just like that Nik, almost there, love," Breathlessly moaning and panting as he neared the edge. What sent him over was actually pulling away a little and looking into Nik's eyes. All he saw was pure love and adoration there, it was too much for him, he finally let go and came. 

His entire body was shaking and twitching as he came, moaning Nik's name, panting as he slowly came back down to earth and looked down. He groaned at the sight—Nik’s hand and ring slick with his spend, his grip still loose and warm against him.

Nik exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded with something soft, something undeniably fond. “Mmm, shower?” he asked, voice still thick with warmth.

“You may have to carry me there.”

Price huffed a laugh, reaching up to brush damp strands of hair back from Nik’s forehead, thumb grazing the side of his face. “I think I can manage.”

Nik’s fingers flexed slightly against his waist, grounding, and Price leaned in again, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth before murmuring, “I love you, Nik. All of you, yeah?”

Nik let out a breath, eyes closing for a moment before flicking back open, steady and full of something deep and settled. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I love you too, Mishka.”

Price kissed him again—soft and lingering, not leading anywhere this time, just there, just them. Nik sighed against him, content, before shifting beneath him, making a quiet sound of protest as Price finally pulled away.

“We should go get cleaned up,” Nik murmured, stretching his arms with a lazy groan. “Then you can tell me all about that meeting, mm?”

Price rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Over dinner?”

“Of course,” Nik hummed, squeezing his side as he made to stand. “Come. You promised to carry me.”

Ghost flexed his fingers absently. He was pretty sure he could do it. No, scratch that—he knew he could do it. He’d been working out more lately, upping his deadlifts and bench press, and Price wasn’t that much heavier than the weights he’d been throwing around. Maybe a bit more solid in the middle, sure, but Ghost wasn’t about to let that stop him.

His mind supplied a vivid image of how it might go: him stepping up behind Price, arms looping around his waist before hoisting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. He imagined the startled grunt Price would make, the way his cigar might tumble from his lips in sheer disbelief. Ghost would hold him there, suspended mid-air, feeling triumphant and smug as Price swore up a storm. Maybe even toss him over a shoulder for good measure.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through Ghost’s chest. Fuck, I really wanna do it.

And then the thought—the dangerous, irrational thought—took an even more deranged turn.

What if he just… buried his face in Price’s back? Just thunked his head against him like some oversized cat marking its territory? What if he just took a big inhale too? What if he just filled his lungs up with Price's intoxicating scent?

Ghost had seen videos of big cats rubbing against their handlers, knocking them around with sheer weight alone, and now the mental image of himself doing that to Price was seared into his mind. 

Would Price let him? Probably not. But maybe. If Ghost timed it right. If he made it quick enough, took advantage of Price’s soft spot for him.

Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?

He scrubbed a hand down his mask, barely resisting the urge to groan. He was losing his goddamn mind, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even ashamed of it. If anything, he was tempted.

Because it wasn’t just some unhinged urge—it was Price.

It was the way Price carried himself, all rough edges and commanding presence, but with the kind of warmth underneath that Ghost couldn’t look away from. It was the way he laughed, the rare deep rumble of it that made Ghost’s chest go tight. It was the way Price had a habit of standing too close, completely unaware of how much space he actually occupied in Ghost’s head.

It was the way Price had his little habits—how he’d run a hand down his beard when he was thinking, or the way he bounced when he was feeling restless, fingers gripping his vest. The way his accent thickened when he was particularly exasperated, or how his blue eyes sharpened when he was assessing a situation. Ghost could list a dozen things about the man that made his brain short-circuit, and not a single one of them had anything to do with the fact that Price was his superior officer.

He wasn’t just some bloke Ghost wanted to wrestle to the ground for fun. No, it was something worse, something worsebecause it came with an emotion Ghost didn’t quite have a name for but felt deep in his ribs whenever Price clapped a hand on his shoulder or called him ‘Simon.’

Ghost sighed and slouched further into his seat, arms crossed. Maybe if he just stopped looking at him—

“Yer makin’ that face again.”

Ghost stiffened, head snapping up. Price was looking at him now, one brow raised in amusement.

Shit.

“…What face?” Ghost asked, voice carefully neutral.

“The one where you’re plottin’ somethin’ daft.”

Ghost blinked. He was absolutely not making that face. He was making his normal, everyday blank expression. The same one that had struck fear into the hearts of enemy combatants for years. There was no fucking way Price could tell that, just moments ago, Ghost had been contemplating rubbing his head against him like an over-affectionate housecat. 

How he could even read Ghost's expression through the mask had always been a mystery. Price knew him too well, it should scare him but it doesn't, it never has. 

“I’m not plottin’ anything,” Ghost lied.

Price hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.” He turned back to his reports but didn’t drop the smirk. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

Ghost exhaled slowly. Disaster avoided.

And yet—and yet—

The urge still hadn’t left.

No, if anything, it had gotten worse. Because now, in the absence of fantasy, his brain had moved into problem-solving mode. Could he get away with it? Could he pull it off? If he were fast enough, if he caught Price off guard, maybe—

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he needed to accept that this was just who he was now. A man consumed by the overwhelming, irrational desire to manhandle his Captain and fucking nuzzle him. A lost cause.

A complete and total, lost cause that was actively fighting for its life as Price casually stretched, arms rolling back, giving Ghost a perfect view of his broad shoulders and back flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. His hand curled into a fist.

Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

“Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t involve me having to clean up any of your messes.” Price’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Ghost barely processed the words. All he could focus on was the fact that, when Price shifted in his seat, his damn jacket rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of his back, displaying all the little moles and freckles and those two distinct dimples in his lower back that look perfect for his fingers to dig into and oh, for fuck's sake.  

Ghost clenched his fists. 

He was going to lose it.

He was actually going to lose it.

He had to get out of here before he did something insane. Like follow through on these godforsaken thoughts.

“Right,” Ghost muttered, pushing himself up from his chair a little too quickly, a little too stiffly. “Gotta… check on something.”

Price barely glanced up. “Mmhm.”

Ghost turned on his heel, marching toward the exit. He needed fresh air. He needed to not be in this room thinking about how catastrophically down bad he was.

As he reached the doorway, he heard Price’s voice again, this time tinged with unmistakable amusement.

“Oi, Ghost.”

Ghost paused but didn’t turn around.

“…If you’re thinkin’ about doin’ whatever it is you’re thinkin’ about doin’—” Price’s smirk was practically audible. “—I’d think about it first.”

Ghost didn’t respond. Just gritted his teeth and forced himself to step outside before he did something really stupid. He couldn’t move until the door shut behind him. He inhaled deeply, exhaled through his nose, and flexed his fingers at his sides.

Maybe, maybe he could let this ridiculous urge go. Maybe he could shove it back into the depths of his mind and act like a normal person.

…Or maybe, just maybe, he was gonna pick the perfect moment to put his theory to the test.

Because one day—one day—he was gonna lift that man.

“You’re a menace,” Gaz muttered after Roach absolutely obliterated him in a training exercise, landing a clean shot before Gaz had even spotted him.

Roach, ever smug, pulled out his phone and held it up: Get good.

Gaz swatted the phone out of his face with a huff, only for Roach to catch it effortlessly, flashing a shit-eating grin before pocketing it.

Soap and Ghost, the ever-present audience to their nonsense, watched on with far too much amusement.

“Y’know, Gaz,” Soap mused, stroking his chin like he was deep in thought, “for someone who’s meant to be the witty bastard on this team, you’re lettin’ Roach run circles round you.”

Gaz rolled his eyes. “I am not letting him do anything.”

Roach, with the worst timing imaginable, sent a single message to his phone. Gaz felt the buzz in his pocket and, with a sinking feeling, pulled it out to read it.

Yeah, but you still can’t keep up.

Gaz turned to glare at Roach, who merely tilted his head with an expression of pure, innocent delight.

“Oh, that’s it—” Gaz began, but then Roach signed something quickly to Ghost. Whatever it was, it sent the normally stoic man into a low chuckle, shaking his head as he walked away.

“What? What did he say?” Gaz demanded, looking between them. Ghost just patted him on the shoulder.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about, mate.”

Gaz turned to Roach, eyes narrowing. “That’s dirty play.”

Roach smirked behind his mask but didn’t deny it.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

The next time Roach got the drop on him in training, Gaz decided to fight dirty. He grinned, wide and slow, and stepped right into Roach’s personal space, leaning in just enough that their noses almost brushed.

Roach, who had been infuriatingly confident up until now, immediately stilled, blinking at him with sharp, surprised eyes. Gaz didn’t miss the way Roach’s fingers twitched by his side, like he was debating stepping back but refused to give in.

Gaz smirked. “What, cat got your tongue?”

Roach’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze, but Gaz saw the faintest dusting of pink across his cheekbones and oh, this was brilliant.

Gaz was just about to revel in his small victory when Roach, moving faster than Gaz could react, reached up and flicked him on the forehead.

“Oi—”

Roach pulled out his phone, typed something quickly, and held it up for Gaz to read.

Try harder, pretty boy.

Gaz’s brain short-circuited.

Soap cackled. Ghost actually laughed, which was worse. Gaz was left standing there, ears burning, fists clenched, as Roach just walked away, supremely satisfied with himself.

Gaz seethed.

Alright. Fine. Roach wanted to play this game? He’d show him.

The next few days were war. Gaz spent every moment he could trying to get one up on Roach, but every attempt only seemed to amuse the other man more. Whether it was sparring, training drills, or even meal breaks, Roach found some way to fluster him. He’d smirk behind his mask, tap a quick message, and watch with clear amusement as Gaz gritted his teeth. He started stealing Gaz’s seat at meal times, casually handing him his phone with a text that read mine now before returning to eating like nothing had happened.

Gaz had never wanted to throttle someone more in his life.

It wasn’t fair. Gaz was supposed to be the smooth one. The fast talker. The one who could charm his way out of anything. And yet, every time Roach smirked at him or sent a cheeky message, Gaz felt his stomach do flips.

One evening, when they were walking back from the gym, Gaz decided it was time for revenge. He waited for the perfect moment—Roach, distracted, stretching out his arms, looking smug as ever—and stepped in front of him, blocking his path and guiding him into a slightly more secluded corner. 

Roach quirked an eyebrow, amused, but before he could sign or reach for his phone, Gaz lifted a hand and hooked his fingers under the edge of Roach’s mask.

Roach stilled. His hands didn’t move to stop Gaz, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—just a moment where he let Gaz decide what happened next.

Slowly, deliberately, Gaz pulled the mask down, revealing Roach’s lips, slightly parted in surprise. Gaz felt his breath hitch at the sight of him, and for once, Roach wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing—he was watching Gaz like he was waiting for something.

So Gaz gave it to him.

He leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was slow, deliberate—less about winning and more about the way Roach melted into it. Roach made a soft, startled sound against his mouth before he kissed back, his fingers curling instinctively into Gaz’s hoodie. Gaz let himself sink into it, into the warmth, the way Roach’s breath hitched when he tilted his head just so.

The world around them blurred. The distant sounds of the base, the ever-present murmur of other soldiers moving about none the wiser to the revelation that Gaz was having right now—it all faded to the feeling of Roach’s lips against his, the way his breath stuttered when Gaz moved just slightly closer.

By the time Gaz pulled back, they were both slightly breathless.

Roach blinked at him, lips red, pupils dark. For the first time ever, he had nothing to say.

Gaz grinned, victorious, his voice smug but warm. “Gotcha.”

Roach’s fingers twitched—half instinct, half hurried—before he pulled out his phone and typed furiously.

Gaz had barely a second to brace himself before Roach turned the screen towards him.

Do it again.

Gaz’s breath hitched.