Soleis’s Thoughts

For reasons of I need to draw Captain Price like that.

Soap is on his back, pinned underneath you on the bed. His hard cock grinds up against your pelvis involuntarily, and he whimpers every time you press your hips down in response. Ghost’s hand is warm, pressed wide to your nape, holding you down firmly against the other sergeant’s face while your throats are stuffed with the dildo. He lets you pull back once you start gagging, but not far enough to pull the dildo out of your mouths, so you get a delightful view of Johnnys choked out, drooling face, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he heaves for breath around the fat silicon tip still spreading his swollen lips wide.

When ghost deems that you’ve both caught your breath enough, he adjusts his grip, spreading his thick fingers wide around the back of your skull, and starts slowly pushing you back down. The ends of the dildo reach the backs of your throats, where they meet resistance, but Ghost’s hand is unrelenting, and it eventually pushes through, deeper, until your lips press together.

Johnnys lips are soft against yours, slick with your combined drool, and he writhes beneath you, bound hands grasping at the sweaty skin of your back. You want to see his face as he takes the giant dildo, you can feel his hips jerking helplessly against you, but it’s hard to focus on keeping your eyes open with the same amount of cock also stuffed down your throat. It’s only when you both start shaking and gagging around the intrusions again that ghost yanks your head up, grabbing the dildo from between you and immediately shoving your head back down to properly kiss Johnny. It’s the messiest kiss you’ve ever had by far, the both of you still coughing wetly and whining through desperate gasps for air.

Ghost’s fat cock ruts against your bare ass as he watches the two of you kiss and struggle underneath him, his entire weight across the backs of your thighs effectively pinning you, and Johnny, to the bed. The sheets under you are soaked in sweat, and you can feel the slick tracks of drool sliding down Johnny’s cheeks, making his scruffy jaw shine.

You see movement out of the corner of your teary eye, and you shiver in anticipation, knowing Ghost is reaching over to the collection of dildos lined up next to the bed, organized strategically in order of increasing size.

Imagine walking in on Nikolai taking a break from working in his garage on a hot day, he's sat down on the ratty old couch in the corner with a heavy sigh. His head is tilted back against the cushions with his eyes closed, arms spread wide and relaxed across the back of the couch. You can see the gleam of sweat shining on his exposed throat, and you swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to lick it off.

Your eyes drag downwards, past the collar of his engine oil stained shirt to his fat pecs. His nipples are just barely visible through the thin cloth, and you imagine what it would be like to run your hands up under that shirt, dig your fingers through the thick hair on his belly and chest and grab handfuls of his fat tits.

Then following the hair down past his belly button, under the band of his underwear…

Well. He calls you sweet. Everyone else looks at him like he’s crazy.

Because you are sweet to Nik, sure, he helps you take care of your scales, and takes you flying in beautiful high mountains, and keeps your instincts well satisfied with his genuine gold jewelry. Every glint of his gold studs in the sun, or the shine of his necklace has your eyes locked on to him, nothing else matters but his words. Because you know if you listen and obey well, he’ll let you touch them, run your sharp claws over the gold links, brush against the rings adorning his thick fingers.

The same claws that have ripped through dozens of men like tissue paper, that have come back to him soaked in dark blood, turn soft against his skin, reverent in the way you touch him.

Now, to everyone else on base, you are a feral little beast. Even Price, who used to be drawn to the gold-covered Russian same as you when he was your age, is not safe from you. He’ll come back to his room after a long day, tired and ready for bed, only to find you curled in HIS nest, snarling and puffing up your wings in a threat display once you notice him, like he’s the one intruding here. Price learned after the first few times that it’s better to just go get Nik to extract you, bribe you back to your own nest in his hanger with promises of shinies.

Ghost is the only one who gets similar treatment to Nikolai. He’s big, and barrel-chested, and most importantly, warm. He regularly finds himself crushed under your scaly, fast asleep body, your tail curled tightly around his leg and wings twitching over his arms as you dream. Price found the two of you reversed, once, thought he was going to have to tell Nik his precious dragon had been crushed, with the way you could barely be seen squished under Ghost’s bulk. The only clue you were alive under there was the loud, happy purring that vibrated through both of you.

Your favorite is when Nik brings Ghost back to the hanger with him. You can drag the big man into your nest, use your jabbing claws and nipping teeth to keep him where you want him while you peel off his mask. Your purr rumbles through his chest as you lay on top of him, tracing over each and every scar crossing his face, shining adornments just like Nikolai’s gold.

Gaz on his back on the couch, lazily watching the movie they picked out for their calm night in. He’s got pillows propped behind his back and neck, so he doesn’t even have to keep his head lifted up to see the tv.

He’s as relaxed as could be, so he sighs when he hears the whimper from the crook of his shoulder. Simon’s got his face pressed there, hiding away as the rest of his naked body practically vibrates over Kyle. His heavy cock twitches where it’s buried inside of him, followed by an involuntary jerk of his hips, giving away his eagerness. Gaz pinches his side in correction, “what did I tell you, pup? Be good and let me watch the movie.”

Simon whines again, and tries his best to control his twitching hips, thighs tensing in effort not to move. Gaz can feel the big mutt’s shaky breaths against his chest, proud of how long he’s lasted, the movie’s been on for a whole thirty minutes, and just now is he getting antsy. And if he’s been clenching his hole on purpose in the past few minutes, just to see how Simon would react, well, his mutt certainly doesn’t need to know that.

Another clench from Kyle, played off as just adjusting, earns a gasping whine from deep in Simon’s throat, and another desperate twitch of his hips. Kyle pinches his asscheek this time, “still, pup.”

Simon mumbles something incomprehensible into his shoulder, and Kyle pulls his head up with a firm grip on his hair, “speak, mutt. What is it?”

Wet, shiny cow eyes meet Kyle’s gaze, “ple- please, Ky. I need- I need to move, please, ma, please,” his hips are really shaking now, Kyle can feel how tense Simon is, putting so much effort into obeying, sweet thing. Kyle stopped paying attention to the movie a while ago, much more interested in the little noises his boy was making, but he pretends to consider for a moment, before huffing and pushing Simon’s head back into his neck, “release.”

The sound that leaves Simon is one of pure relief, a gasp and a sob and a whimper all in one. His hips grind deeper, and in an instant he’s pumping them without rhythm, all grasping hands and mindless babbles, “th’nk you- thank you, ma- ngh, mama, thank you, oh yes, yes, oh m’ comi’n ma, ah!”

Simon’s moans rise in pitch as he comes, breaths coming in quick little pants against Kyle’s neck. He soothes the big man, petting his sweaty hair and murmuring encouragement as Simon keeps thrusting into overstimulation, “don’t stop, pup, that’s it. Keep moving those pretty hips.”

Simon shakes his head, whining in protest, “please, mama. I c’nt, please ‘s too much.”

Kyle’s lips press gently to the side of his head, shushing him, “shhh… you can. Don’t want me to have to take over, do you?” More vehement head shaking, and Simon’s hips pick up again, trying his best to keep some rhythm through quiet, hiccuping sobs.

Kyle can feel his own cock starting to harden in interest, firming up further than the half-chub he’s had since he slipped Simon into him at the start of the movie. He rolls his head to the side to whisper against his ear, “wanna make me cum, sweet boy?” He’s nodding before he even really comprehends the question, so eager to do anything for his love, his mama. Kyle laughs fondly, moves Simon’s hand from its bruising grip on his thigh to his cock pressed between them. Kyle sucks in a breath when a thumb strokes over his leaking tip, tipping his head back and just letting his pup please him.

The combination of a big, calloused hand on his cock, Simon rubbing against his prostate with every shaky thrust, and the delightful noises drawn from the mutt with each movement, Kyle reaches his peak in almost no time at all. His mouth falls open and his tummy tenses along with his hole, eliciting a cry from Simon as his sensitive cock is squeezed mercilessly, pushing him into another sobbing orgasm.

Once both their highs have faded, Kyle gives the command to “still,” again, and Simon all but collapses on top of him, muscles giving out as he hiccups and whimpers into Kyle’s skin. His softening cock stays in Kyle, not having the will to force his oversensitive prick through more friction just to separate. Kyle is more than happy to lay in the afterglow, appreciating the soft, pliant thing in his lap after their fun has been had. He strokes his fingers through Simon’s sweaty curls, brushing them away from where they stick to his forehead, and murmuring praise as his pup drifts off to sleep.

He’s done it a few times already today, walking to meetings, and you’ve scolded his smug face each time. Now, you’re walking across the tarmac, finally done with the last debrief of the day, and he’s doing it again.

“SOAP.” You whirl around after the first kick, and he doesn’t even get a split second of smugness before your fist is in the collar of his shirt. His eyes widen as you yank him forward to growl in his ear, “you are dead fuckin meat, Mactavish.”

Then he gets another split second of heat flooding his face before he’s shoved forwards again, “walk in front of me.” You snap, kicking a boot against his ass so he stumbles as he begins walking again, now ahead of you.

You keep him like that all the way to the barracks, shoving a heavy boot against his ass every time he starts walking slower than you’d like. And when you finally reach his door, you kick the backs of his knees, watching in satisfaction as he yelps and thuds to the floor. You grab his Mohawk, the perfect handle, really, and use it to yank his head backwards to look up at you. “Gonna do that again?” You snarl in his face.

Yes. “No, sir.”

You scoff, and toss his head forwards, “you’d better not, Soap, I swear. There’ll be hell to pay if you do.”

He watches from his knees, mouth parted on excited pants, as you walk away down the hall to your room. The second your door closes behind you, he leans back against his still-closed door with a moan, reaching down to palm himself through his pants. He’s kinda disappointed you didn’t see how hard that made him, what with facing away from you the whole way here and all.

Chest to the bed and your ass in the air, with your head over the end of the bed. Price is sitting in his chair, a glass of whisky held closely in one hand. He’s got one leg bent, ankle resting over his other knee, which brings his shoe up to your face level.

He’s been sliding the toe of his fancy dress shoe under your chin to tilt your face up anytime it starts to drop, with a “come on now, pup. Can’t see that fucked out face if your head’s drooping like that.”

Your wrists are tied tightly, but carefully, to each bedpost, so the only thing you can hold onto is the sheets you have bunched in your fists. Really, the only thing keeping you from sliding off the bed and face planting on the floor is the bruising grip the man behind you has on your hips.

It’s Soap right now, has been for the past few minutes at least. He’d muscled his way in for his turn practically the second Ghost pulled out of you, earning himself firm fingers in his hair and a few down his throat while the lieutenant told him, “behave.”

Soap always fought to fuck you right after Ghost. The giant man’s cock stretched you out so much, and Soap loved nothing more than feeling you flutter weakly around his much smaller length, with the added bonus of getting to slide his cock through his lieutenant’s still-warm cum. (Like he wouldn’t have that same cum in his own gaped hole by the end of the night)

Already tonight, you’ve been fucked by all four of them. Price went first, of course. Then he sat himself in his comfy chair with a satisfied sigh and crooked his fingers to call Gaz over to clean him up, then tucked himself neatly back into his pants and sat back to watch his favorite show.

Gaz was allowed to go next. He eagerly stripped, then spent a good few minutes teasing your hole and making you squirm and whimper before finally sliding himself in and starting a slow pace. Gaz loved going second, because he got to really savor his time with you. And because every second he spent working you over meant another second of Ghost and Soap becoming increasingly horny and annoyed with him for taking so long.

Sometimes if he really milked his time, he got to see Ghost get fed up and pull Soap’s face to his groin to relieve a little tension. But finally he let himself finish, moaning low and grinding his hips before giving your ass a little pat and moving out of the way.

Then it was Ghost’s turn. He pulled your hips up to him, stretching your upper body out against the restraints. Two cocks before him was a good start, but that never fully prepared you for him, he was just too big. He was usually nice about it though, cooing at you while he added lube for your sake, before slotting his fat tip against your hole.

“Deep breath, love,” he always said. And you’d breathe and try to relax as much as possible while he started pushing his hips forward. He always held your hips the tightest, had to, so his cock wouldn’t just push you forwards instead of going in. Once the tip popped past your entrance, there was always praise, and moans from the sergeants watching, “thaaats it, love. Easy going now, isn’t it? Take me so well darlin.”

And it was always easier after that, just a slow, stretching slide until his hips met your ass and his tip pressed against you deep inside. He wasn’t so gentle after that point, though. Once he knew you could take him all the way, he didn’t hold back, his jarring thrusts pushing you to the edge of the bed each time before he yanked you back towards him.

The only sounds you could really make when Ghost fucked you were gasps, and loud, punched out moans every time his cock sank deep.

After that was Soap, of course, and the rotation would continue like that for as long as the three of them had stamina.

They were all allowed to fuck you as many times as they each wished, on nights like this. The only rule was, they weren’t allowed to make you cum without Price’s permission. And the captain wouldn’t accept just any begging, he would require you to really convince him that you deserved an orgasm.

Little sounds escape your throat every time Soap’s hips meet your ass, his balls slapping loudly against you each time. None of them have touched you yet, aside from holding you in place, and you desperately want to cum. You’ve been pushed to the edge and dragged back countless times, but nothing is enough to push you over without their hands.

You force your eyes to meet Price’s, and he tilts his head at you. You gasp at a particularly rough thrust, and stutter out, “sir, ple-please can I cum?”

He chuckles, shaking his head and lifting his whisky glass to his lips. He savors it, then meets your eyes again and presses the toe of his boot under your chin.

“Convince me.”

“Please sir may I cum? I’ve been so good haven’t i?” Another gasp, “ah- I-I did really well in sparring today, and- hah, and I’ve finished all my paperwork before schedule, sir.” You cut yourself off with another gasping moan, trying your best to continue, “hnnng, and I’ve been s-so good letting the boys fuck me,” you look over your shoulder at Soap as best you can, “r-right Soap? I feel so good, don’t I?”

Soap’s response is a panting groan, and a frantic nod of his head.

You look back at Price, “see, sir? I’ve been so so good, ‘nd I’ll keep being good too, even after I cum.”

He raises an eyebrow, “oh, really? I won’t hear any begging to stop once you get overwhelmed?”

“No sir, no, I won’t even ask for a break, I’ll be a good toy, I promise!” You shake your head and level him with a pleading stare.

He moves his foot back and forth, swaying your head with it as he thinks. “I’m going to hold you to that, pup. You know you’ll be in for one hell of a punishment if you go back on your word.”

“Of course, yes sir, I’ll be so good.” You’re panting now, getting closer the longer Soap’s cock pounds at your insides. And you can tell he’s getting close too, he’s letting out sharp little whimpers between every breath, and his fingers are digging harder into your hips.

Price finally gives a nod, and gestures to Soap with the hand not holding his whisky, “go on then, sergeant.”

Soap’s hand flies off of your hip and reaches between your thighs, the clumsy friction of his fingers making you cry out and press back into him, “oh, fuck, Johnny. Yes, ah! Right there. Good boy.”

You whimper his name as you finally fall over that edge, shaking and twitching in his grip as he fucks you through it. Your clenching around him pushes him over the edge too, and he sobs as his cock pulses inside you, his cum mixing with the three loads already in you.

You get about a second of relief as he stills, before you hear a yelp and feel his cock yanked out of you. Price laughs again, so you can only assume Ghost has dragged Soap against his chest to continue jerking him into overstimulation. By the continued sobs and wails from behind you, you can assume you guessed correctly.

Your legs give out and your lower body flops onto the bed, thighs shaking through the aftershocks. Though the empty space behind you is quickly replaced by another warm body, smooth hands caressing down your sides before dragging your hips up again, one reaching between your legs to stroke you. You twitch and gasp, your hole clenching as Gaz’s fingers work you over, the stimulation becoming too much very quickly.

His cock slides up and down against your ass a few times before sliding into you, his hips moving immediately. Gaz also likes taking another turn after you’ve been allowed to cum, he loves how whiny and shaky you get, how he can pull sounds from you so much easier once you’re already so sensitive.

Your hands pull uselessly against the restraints, trying in vain to stop the overwhelming sensations wrought by Gaz’s deft fingers. You whine and sob as tears prick your eyes, but not a word of protest leaves your mouth. You made a promise, and even in this state, you know to keep it.

Your cries mix beautifully with Soap’s strained babbling and begging, exactly the sounds Price loves hearing pulled from his team.

These are his favorite nights, when he can get off easily, then sit back and enjoy the sight of his soldiers being fucked to tears.

Ghost who’s been touchy all day, snapping at recruits, rougher than usual on the mats while sparring, leveling a murderous glare at anyone who tries to talk to him until they skitter off.

Until finally Soap corners him at the end of the work day, demanding to know what’s got his panties all in a twist. Just tell him so he can help, L.T., that’s all he wants.

Ghost who narrows his eyes at him, then grabs him by the nape and all but drags him into his quarters, locking the door behind them.

Who shoves Soap to the floor and grips his Mohawk in one hand, holding him with his head back against the edge of the bed while he yanks his already dripping cock out of his pants.

Who smacks the side of Soap’s face, telling him gruffly, “open,” and thrusts in without ceremony, bullying his way immediately to the back of the sergeant’s throat and making him gag.

Ghost who fucks Soap’s face without any rhythm, only seeking his own pleasure, who grunts in satisfaction and opens his mouth,

And starts talking about Gaz.

“Bloody hell, Garrick’s gonna be the death of me.”

“God, unf. Stupid, gorgeous motherfucker ‘e is.”

“Was practically shaking having to hold myself back watchin’ ‘im pin blokes during sparring.”

“His- fuck, his goddamn arms. So pretty, wanna hold ’em above his head while I fuck him stupid, eh?”

“See those pretty eyes of his roll back. Make him cry on my cock, ‘d be so good, I know it.”

Soap is trying his damn hardest to focus on every word while also struggling to breathe around the cock slamming into his face over and over again. His fingers digging into Ghost’s thighs, trying to wrest some control, ultimately doing nothing to ease the grip of the fist in his hair.

Ghost is treating him practically like a fleshlight, just something to use to get off while he babbles about his crush on the other sergeant. He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his life, he’d be jerking off furiously if his hands weren’t stuck gripping Ghost’s thighs.

Soap is spread out on his back on their bed, with Ghost sitting behind him, soap’s head pillowed against his massive thighs.

Soap’s hands have been tied with paracord (the only thing they could find in time because Ghost was impatient and always keeps the most random things on hand), behind Ghost’s back. His biceps squished against the bigger man’s sides, his torso just so wide that Soap can move his arms little more than an inch around his bulk, keeping him perfectly in place.

Ghost’s cock rests beside Soap’s face intimidatingly, the thing easily as long as the face it’s pressed against, while he pinches and twists Soap’s nipples meanly.

He takes note of everything that makes his sergeant squeal, though it’s a bit hard to tell what reactions are due to him, and which are caused by the man between his legs.

Gaz has Soap’s thighs pinned under his arms on either side of his chest, so he can’t close them no matter how much he jerks and writhes. He has his lips around the tip of Soap’s cock, sucking meanly as his hands dig bruises into his cute freckled hips.

He’s not just sucking Soap off, though. When Soap seems to be getting too close to cumming, he pulls off and delivers a vicious bite to anywhere he can reach while still keeping him pinned down.

There are visible marks all over Soap’s upper thighs, stomach, pelvis, there’s even a faint ring of teeth marks at the base of his cock.

Soap yelps and wails every time, and Ghost coos at him before twisting a nipple and making him cry harder. Soap can feel the lieutenant’s cock twitch against the tear tracks on his cheeks at every noise of pain.

It won’t be long before Ghost decides he wants more. He’ll spread his thighs and shove Soap’s head down in between them, trapping him with his head tilted all the way back. Perfect for Ghost to shove his entire cock down the sergeant’s throat and feel it spasm as Soap struggles and gags around his length.

You’re scuba diving around wrecks, you find a pretty little shell buried in the sand inside one and turn around to show your diving partner, but they are nowhere to be seen. You turn in a circle, look up and down to see if they’ve drifted from you, but all that greets your eyes is the old wood of the wreck and dark water.

You kick your fins to propel yourself towards the gaping hole in the hull you thought you both came through to explore inside the old thing, and take a good look around outside the ship.

Still nothing.

Just as you are about to start your ascent to see if you can find your partner on the surface, movement catches your eye towards the rear of the ship. You turn towards it, but it’s gone behind the other side of the wreck, out of sight.

You swim along the upside down hull to the other side, mentally preparing the earful you’re going to give your partner as soon as you get back above water. You place your hands on the wood and peer over the other side, expecting to see them making some “haha got you” hand signs at you.

But all you see is the ocean floor. The same sand as the other side, and some large craggy rocks, but those are too far away for your partner to have swam to before you saw them.

You look to the left and right, along the side of the hill, but there’s no other diver.

You grumble to yourself and slip over the side just to make sure there isn’t another hole they could be hiding from you in. But no, this side of the ship is just a smooth curve, nowhere for a person to hide. You sigh and resign yourself to meeting with them at the surface.

Then you see something, again, out of the corner of your eye, and you almost want to head up anyways just to spite them for being stupid and reckless, but you turn towards the rocks, already glaring.

It’s not your partner, not even another diver. Your first thought is “shark,” but then it moves again, coming out from behind the rocks, and your heart almost stops.

You know it what it is instantly, even though you can hardly make yourself believe it. You think you might have nitrogen sickness, or the pressure is messing with you, but all you can do is stare, frozen.

Because across the sandy ocean floor, less than twenty meters away from you, is a mer.

Like something literally out of a storybook, or some fanfiction AU. It’s huge, and its dark eyes are locked on you, and- and it’s coming right towards you. Fast.

You barely have time to flail your fins, trying to kick away before it’s on you.

Its claws dig into your arms even through your wetsuit, as it holds you like some interesting little thing it’s found.

Your limbs are twitching, like they want to do something but your brain hasn’t caught up to tell them what yet. Your breath comes in shaky, panting gasps through your regulator, bubbles obscuring half of your vision.

And then your mask is gone.

You squeeze your eyes shut as saltwater floods over them, trying to remember not to breathe through your nose.

Now you’re properly terrified, you can’t see and the creature keeps grabbing at your gear, pulling at it curiously (you think). You are afraid to try to push it away, what if it thinks you’re attacking and gets violent? You really don’t fancy being torn apart by those inch-long claws you caught a brief glimpse of before your mask was torn off.

It pokes at your face, and you flinch, then you feel it tug on your regulator, and your hands fly up to hold it in your mouth.

Its hands move to the rest of your gear, flinching away briefly when a pull to your inflator releases the rest of the air from your vest, but resuming its assault soon after. You hear a ripping noise, and your entire vest is pulled away from your back, along with your cylinder full of air. You grab the hose connected to your regulator in a last ditch attempt to keep your access to air as you lose contact with your life support.

You can’t take it anymore, you have to see what is happening. You force your eyes open slowly, and they sting angrily when the saltwater touches them.

Your vision is blurry, but the creature is now so close you can see the white patterning streaking across its face, almost skull-like. It brings its face even closer when it sees your eyes have opened, would almost be touching your nose if the regulator wasn’t in the way.

Now you can see that its eyes aren’t black like you originally thought. A ring of whiskey-brown surrounds the large pupil, creating a human likeness that makes you pause.

Your grip loosens just enough for it to yank the regulator out of your mouth.

You jerk, and flail quickly for your backup, only to have that also ripped from you before it reaches your mouth. You make a panicked sound in the back of your throat, and your need to survive takes over.

You need to get to the surface. You shove at the creature holding you, struggling and thrashing in its hold. It tugs you down though, nosing against the skin of your face and neck.

Your hands fly to your mouth and over your nose, trying desperately to keep from breathing in, your chest spasming. You’ve never felt such tightness in your lungs before, it hurts, your brain needs air but you know breathing in won’t get you it.

The rest of your body locks up, no longer able to fight when you need air so badly. Maybe the mer takes this as a surrender, because it makes a satisfied rumbling sound, not unlike an orca, and grips you tighter.

Its eyes are wide and locked on your face, not that you notice through the panic, but it leans closer, still making that satisfied churring noise as your face turns red, then purple.

You finally lose the battle with your body, and take an involuntary, tiny breath in. You start choking immediately, seawater flooding your lungs.

You think this must be one of the worst ways to die, it’s horrible, it hurts so bad. You want to be anywhere but here, hundreds of feet of water above you, trapped under the claws of something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

As your consciousness fades, the last thing you feel aside from the pain in your chest is the feeling of claws ripping through your wetsuit and across your ribs.

Ghost, who after carving your precious skull to fit his own face, looks up from his crouch next to your bloodied form as his team walks in, eyes widening- and his team who are just as freakish as him:

Johnny who pulls him closer with a hand on the back of his neck to press his lips to your cheekbone, reverent in the way he lingers there, eyes closed.

Kyle who presses the bridge of his nose and forehead to your temple opposite Soap. He stays there for a moment with Ghost’s kit gripped tightly in one fist, as if he would ever pull away from his sergeants.

Your Captain, who stands a few feet away, allowing his three remaining teammates to have their moment. Once they are all packed into the humvee on their way back to base though, comfortable silence resting over them because you’re still right there, in the car with them, aren’t you? Price reaches out a hand and rests it on top of Ghosts head, stretching his thumb down to rub between your brow bones, just like he used to do when you still had muscles there to pull the skin tight and tense.