#arqhms

Being dragged into a different universe sucked.

Peter’s head was pounding, his back aching, growing stubble itching at his chin. His foot tapped as Mayday rocked around on his lap, babbling about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

“MJ and I are on the rocks again.”

Yeah. You paused at his answer, looking back with your mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Your response was quick, tones of guilt ridden underneath. “Uhm- how old is May?”

“She’s one.”

He sighed, slotting his fingers against his upper jaw. You were rambling about how pretty she was— his daughter, eyes shining, lashes batting at her teasingly. It’s almost as if you’d totally forgotten about what had just happened.

He’d put it lightly. MJ had called it quits (for the 5th time this year) the night this whole ordeal started. She found out about your, as she called it, “little tango with Peter Parker”, which was years ago and frankly over. You didn’t need to know that, though.

“You want to hold her?”

You excitedly walked over, scooping Mayday— his daughter, into your arms. Peter watched as you swung her around, happily responding with her incoherent babbles with nonsense of your own.

It was years ago, when you and him were together. Nothing much became of it; you dropped in from another dimension, he was single.. and bored.

Nothing much, Peter sighed; he’d know you for merely a month. Fell for you in merely a month, too, recalling the way you’d broken his heart, and his yours, as you headed for home.

That mere month he knew you was perfect. You were the girl of his dreams, he’d thought he’d escaped that.

But damn, you still looked good. Especially with his kid in your arms.

“Peter.”

Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Peter.”

His eyes snapped open, looking up to see Miguel standing over him, Mayday held firmly in his hands.

“She needs to be changed.”

“You’re such a dad, el diablo.” You snickered, earning a glare from the man beside you. Miguel handed Mayday back to him before turning to you, effortlessly hoisting you onto his shoulder with a single arm. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you. I hate it.”

“Miguelllll.”

Your whine echoed down the halls, settling coldly in his ears as Miguel took you away. A frown had absentmindedly settled on his face the moment you disappeared, following him to the bathroom. The moment he looked into the mirror, he saw it, forcing him to smile down at Mayday as she tugged on his pant leg.

“Just my luck, huh, kiddo?”

Peter knew he’d heard this sound before.

“Miguel, what if people hear?”

You’d asked it, over, and over. You were always a cautious person, but you always gave in too quickly for your own good.

He’d also heard the same whine buzz from your throat. The same one you’d do when he’d leave hickeys on your neck. The same one that he’d do to you— except he wasn’t, Miguel was.

Shit. He could’ve picked any other hotel tonight. Any other that wouldn’t have him staring at the ceiling, listening to you get ruined by another man. Any other that wouldn’t possibly have Mayday waking up to the sound of his ex getting fucked in the room above him.

Just his luck, indeed.

Why was he bothered, anyway? You weren’t together anymore, that was in the past, completely. You didn’t love him anymore, and he had a kid with another woman. Albeit, a woman that he couldn’t stay with for more than two months at a time. And, you did look really nice holding May.

…shit.

Seconds passed. Your moans grew progressively louder. Peter could feel his face flush, deep, spreading erratically to other parts of his body. Every nerve in his system was struck, listening to you make noises like that— noises that only he should be pulling from you.

Before he knew it, Peter was palming himself through his suit, aggressively, listening intently as your voice began to run a little hoarse. Miguel must have already make you cum once, then. He imagined himself in that position, spreading the embarrassing amount of precum that had gathered at his tip along his skin as his hand slipped further underneath.

Peter could almost remember every detail from your nights together. He soaked in each reaction, how your face would scrunch up when he fingered you, the way your eyes would roll back when he bottomed out. Your chants and pleas of his name echoed faintly against the shabby motel walls, contrasting with his in a disturbing symphony.

“Miguel.. ah— Miguel— don’t stop…”

It should’ve been his name you were crying. Peter’s strokes grew faster as he tried to block Miguel’s name out, violently fisting himself at the thought of you under him, hot and streaking with tears of pleasure. He could nearly feel the soft curves of your thighs that he would gently trace, choking out a moan at the way you would look at him while he was lapping up your sobbing pussy.

It should’ve been him. Should’ve been you he fucked his kid into. The thought had him grounding his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes brimming with tears as his abdomen began to tighten. You were outright wailing now, begging Miguel to let you cum.

Peter imagined that you were whining his name, just as you did before, eyes glossy, lips swollen and puffy. You cried one last time as you came, and he felt his own cum leaking onto his hands, along with Miguel’s quiet praises. He swore, burying his head into the pillows when he began to console you.

It should’ve been him, but it wasn’t. You were Miguel’s girl.

“Cobra? Do you copy”

“Cobra. Come in, it’s Ghost.”

“Y/n? Do you read me?”

A soft buzz echoed inside your earpiece as the static began to fade, melting desperate calls to the distant fizzle of newborn embers. Your earpiece was gingerly unhooked from your ear before a pair of arms hoisted you up, gently setting you to slump against the nearest wall.

“You awake, Fangs?”

Your eyes slowly peaked open from the call of a familiar voice, leading you to drag an arm over your eyelids before prying them fully open. Just a few inches away from you kneeled Graves, sifting through a small first aid kit laid out on the ground below. He glanced over to see that you were indeed alive, offering a soft smile your way before returning to the half assembled needle in his hand.

“Hey.” Your eyes shot back open at the feeling of him rolling one of your sleeves up. “Try and sit still. You’ll feel a Hell of a lot better in a few seconds.”

Droplets of rain kissed the newly exposed patch of your skin, coating the area in a gloss that gave way to the thin veins below. Graves ran a gloved hand along your forearm, stopping just before your elbow to bring the needle right beside his pointer finger. You hissed at the sudden feeling of a sharp tick in your arm, yet found yourself gasping at the surges of heat that came right after it. Your hands subconsciously clamped around Graves’ shoulders as the flames of adrenaline licked through your blood, ending in the faint scent of smoke nearby.

“That’s it, Fangs. You’re alright.” Graves affirmed, tucking your loose arm around his neck before pulling you to stand. “You okay to stand?”

“Yeah.”

Graves nodded, allowing you to untangle yourself from his upper region and stand straight. Your gaze was soon pulled from your dirtied vest as he dropped your earpiece on the ground, smashing it dead into the dirt with his boot. Before you could even articulate a response to his sudden agression, your attention was pulled to the sound of approaching tires.

“Your men, I’m guessing?” You questioned, taking the new earpiece from his extended hand. “What’s going on here, Graves?”

The man before you simply shook his head, signaling to the oncoming vehicle with a wave. You grit your teeth at him, taking his outstretched arm before pulling him into a shaded patch of the alleyway.

“You wanna fucking explain that stunt you pulled back at Fuerzas, huh?” You growled, shoving his back against the soddened walls. “Playing Mr. Nice Guy doesn’t work on your enemies, Phi.”

“You think I have a choice, Y/n?” Graves snapped back, tilting his head almost comically at you. “In case you forgot, we are OWNED by Shepherd, whether we like it or not. I did the best I could.”

“COMMANDER GRAVES?”

You pulled off of him at the sound of pounding footsteps, emerging from the shadows with a grim expression set upon your features. Graves was quick to follow, adjusting his vest before leaning down to level with your ear.

“We lost our rights to free will a while ago, Fangs. But that doesn’t change a damn thing when it comes to you, okay?”

An erratic chill ran down your spin as Graves used the last of his cover to run a hand along your side, stopping to give your wrist a light squeeze before fully emerging into the light.

He was right. You had lost your right to life two months ago. But choosing not to fight back? Turning on the people who had the most capacity to apprehend Shepherd?

“… right on. Cobra and I will lead you through a sweep of the city. Remember, it’s the police we’re after. Do what you have to, but try your best to limit civilian casualties.”

“But sir, Shepherd confirmed that we had full, unrestricted reign of the city?”

Silence coated the atmosphere in a blanket of suffocating static, pulling Graves’ jaw taut as he gripped the sides of his vest tighter.

He knew this isn’t what you’d have wanted. The scrutinizing judgment of your ill-witted gaze drilling him from the back was enough to say so. You knew Phillip Graves never wanted his life to play out like it did for the past two years. And you knew he tried to play hero, but at the end of the day, both his life and yours had always mattered more than anything else.

“Of course, do as you must.”

And you were just as bad as him, holding what could be potential liberation behind tongue tied thoughts. But instead of speaking up, you nodded your soldiers off, slipping a hand into one of the many pockets on Graves’ vest as you slipped by. A look of deep solemn was sent his way, captivating his gaze even as gunfire began to light up the dim space around you, ending with a gleam of remorse before the sun disappeared.

You watched as he turned his back, typing a set of eight numbers in the device you stole before dropping it into the mud, kicking it deeper, and moving to join him.

Maybe you could do something before all Hell broke loose.

———

ONE WEEK AFTER THE INCIDENT. / A WAREHOUSE SOMEWHERE ALONG THE OUTSKIRTS OF LAS ALMAS.

“Cobra. I trust you’ve been having successes in finding Hassan’s location?”

“Negative, sir. She won’t speak without Alejandro present. With Graves’ report on the prison break, I’m afraid we’ll have to open negotiations back up.”

A noise of disapproval crept it ways through your earpiece, moving you to sit straight whilst watching Shepherd from the edge of your screen.

“Find Hassan, Cobra. I don’t care how. Golden Eagle out.”

You closed the computer with a sigh, standing up to make way for the armory. A suppressed DMR was grabbed and strapped on top of a lightweight vest, followed by a silencer pistol strapped to your thigh. A line of smokes and frags were clicked onto your belt, finishing off by smoothing your hair back and pulling a black balaclava over your face.

Midnight was approaching fast, leaving you with nearly 20 minutes to reach your destination. Emerging outside, you fastened your DMR to a clip on your vest before spinning your keys in place, letting one foot fall to the ground as you swung yourself onto your vehicle. The engine of your motorcycle raged to life as you yanked your keys against the ignition, leaving a mass of dust in your wake as you tapped the gas, setting off for the barren roads ahead.

The time on your watch had just flashed to 11:59 as you eased to a stop, setting your bike to lay against the sand before dropping beside it. Flicking your thermal scope onto your DMR, you set the gun down against the cool grounds below, finger hovering the trigger as you peered at a warehouse nearly 100 meters ahead. Breathing in, you focused your crosshairs on a pair of guards on the perimeter’s outskirts, lowering down on the trigger as one of them moved in position for a collateral.

Your eyes snapped to the side as a third man dropped in the corner of your scope, winding a faint smile upon your face as you rose up from the ground. Small piles of sand kicked up behind your footsteps as you broke into a sprint, watching bodies drop in the near distance with every footstep you took.

There would only be 10 internal guards at this time. 20 on the outside and dropping rapidly made easy work of it, allowing you to slip in through a side gate completely unnoticed.

A stray guard stationed on the main roof caught your attention, leading you to snatch a half cracked beer bottle off the ground before moving forward. Peaking your head above a ladder, you rose your hand when he glanced away, tossing the bottle a few meters in the opposite direction. Following a string of confused murmurs and the turn of his back, you mounted the roof and ran up behind him, spinning him by his shoulders before jamming a knife into his jugular.

Now came the hardest part, eliminating the ones inside. You couldn’t pick them off one by one since the area was so compact, and starting a gunfight could prove risky. The only one safe way you could think of led you to crouch beside one of the roof’s skylights, peering down at a clump of guards that sat directly below you.

A soft click sounded from your belt as you pulled a smoke bomb from it, smashing a small hole in the glass before dropping it in. The rise of agitated coughs led you to flip on the infrared lens on your goggles, dropping down onto a crate before taking your last fall onto the chest of a guard.

Frenzied gunfire rang out as blinded guards screamed in confusion, their rasps soon cut short by a swift sequence of knives jutted to their skin. You made easy work of the first 5 that had been grouped up, but the rest had already been alerted, and were approaching fast.

You dropped another canister of smoke before sliding against one of the numerous crates in the warehouse, peaking out to see a red, thermal mass just a few feet away. His legs were kicked from behind as you spun your knife to his front, spurting a thick trail of blood into the mist at the expense of his esophagus. A chain of horrific screams echoed throughout the space as you moved forward in rapid, deadly progression, grabbing the last man’s head before putting a silenced bullet in the base of his skull.

A click pushed past your tongue as you knelt down, swiping a now bloodied keycard out of the guard’s pocket. However, you could only freeze in shock as the sound of a cocked gun rang out from your front, leading you to stare straight into the barrel once the last of the smoke cleared.

“Don’t move.”

You raised your hands in defeat, allowing the guard to reach forward and snatch the covering off of your face. The moment his eyes widened was the same a sharp object whizzed just meters past your head, allowing him to mutter a single word before slumping to the ground.

“Cobra.”

His body was kicked to the side, allowing you to step out of the pools of blood that coated your boots and turn around. The sight before you drew a thin sigh from your lips, leading you to avert your gaze at the sound of approaching footsteps.

You couldn’t believe he’d actually followed your message.

“Ghost.”

His eyes traveled to your face, taking in the fresh strokes of red that coated your cheek, soon narrowing into a look you couldn’t decipher. However, if there was one thing you could pick up, it was anger.

“These people, they’re..” he blinked roughly, looking back up to you with a newfound glint of confusion resting in the small corner of light that sat there. “Tell me everything, now.”

“I doubt there’s much you really need to know.”

“Wrong choice.” The harsh bark in his tone grazed your ears as he began walking forward, roughly grabbing the hem of your vest to push you into a nearby crate. “Come clean to me. Right. Now.”

“Tell me what they’ve told you.”

A frustrated sigh passed through the lower region of his mask, followed by the slight tilt of his head downward.

“Shadow Company. Almost an entire section of Las Almas slaughtered.” His voice grew with each passing word, sucking in a sharp breath before looking back up at you. “Graves’ closest advisor.”

You could do nothing but nod.

“I had no control over what he did, Ghost. Shepherd has him wrapped around his finger, I-“

“So you just sit and let him kill all of these innocent people?” He growled, pressing you further into the metal. “You could’ve prevented all of this.. but you..”

“Fucking Hell Simon- don’t say it.”

“You’re in love with that bastard, aren’t you?”

His hand tugged violently on your vest, some fingers moving into the collar of your jacket. Following the upward aggression, one of his knees pressed into your thigh, forcing you to cower under him.

“No, you don’t understand.” You snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I saved him back in Al Mazrah. He owes me his life.”

“And what about us, Cobra?” He spat, leaving just a few inches of space between your noses. “You’ve been with the Task Force way longer, and now you suddenly want to act all high and mighty because your team failed?”

“That was NOT our fault.” You snarled, roughly shaking against his grasp. “We had no choice but to follow Shepherd’s orders, you know that!”

“Fine, but the choices you’ve made up until now? Those are on you.”

You grit your teeth firmly together before swiping one of your feet against Ghosts’ leg, taking his stagger to spin him to where you had been moments prior. Kicking a body towards you, your hands forced his head down, the edge of your boot pointing to the Shadow Company’s insignia sewed into left side of one of the guard’s chests.

“I’m killing my men for the Task Force, Simon. I betrayed my squadron, sent you those coordinates, and you still have the nerve to say I’m acting high and mighty? Do you hear yourself?”

Silence.

“I did this all for you, not Graves.”

You.. meaning the Task Force, of course. Not “you” for the man pressesd flush against your chest, hands running along your forearms, stopping to clamp against your wrists in a fluid squeeze.

“But you’re still going to go back to him, aren’t you?”

You sighed through your nose, unlinking one of his hands from your wrist to rest beside his mask. The eyes above you fluttered nearly shut, holding you in a squint that proved he already knew the answer to that question.

“I have no choice.”

Your hand traveled to the side, languidly hooking a finger under his mask, pulling just high enough to expose his mouth and the stubble coating the skin around it. Before you knew it, he dipped his head down to pounce on your lips, teeth knitting against the soft flesh in a sudden course of hunger.

“Let me have you tonight, then, Cobra.”

It was true, you had no choice when it came to your situation. The mere thought of Shepherd catching you with Ghost made your skin crawl.. but right now, you had him, and you weren’t going to take that for granted. A major mistake, maybe, betraying every ill word you’ve spoken to him in frustrated lust.

Yet, you nodded, allowing him to pick you up and set you away from the mass of bodies you had been standing near.

Gloved hands snaked under your arms the moment you touched the ground, moving to unclip your vest and toss it to the ground beside you. His hands continued to roam along the expanse of your jacket, tugging the zipper down in one harsh movement before taking your belt along with it.

“Do you let Graves touch you like this?”

You bit your lip, shamelessly lifting the bottom of his jacket up to access his belt.

“None of your business.”

He shook his head, knowing what that entailed; fingers moving to fiddle with your pants as well.

“Lucky bastard.”

Ghost took no leisure in sliding your panties down once he popped the button holding your jeans open, tugging one of his gloves off with his teeth before tossing it to the side. His index finger plunged to circle around your folds, rousing a deep sigh from his throat at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers.

“Fucking Hell…”

You whimpered as that same finger suddenly pushed inside of you, the sensitivity of the sudden intrusion making you clamp around him. Only a few shallow pumps sufficed for him until he added the second finger, making sure to stretch them open inside of you before moving forward. You bit back a moan as his fingers curled against your sweet spot, the look in your eyes telling him all he needed to know anyway.

His speed picked up with every short thrust inside your walls, eventually rousing a quiet moan from your lips as your head fell back. A soft hum followed the crude noise, only encouraging him to run his other hand along the bundle of nerves above. Your teeth gnawed at your lips at the feeling of rough velcro abusing the outside of your pussy, each sloppy rub of his fingers sending a pleasant shock through your system.

“Fucking Graves.” Ghost mumbled, thrusting his fingers in you particularly hard at the thought of the man. “Wish he was here to watch someone else touch you like- this.”

You bit your hand as his fingers curled on the last word, heating the coil snaking around your midsection tenfold.

“Let me hear you, lovie.” He reached up, prying your hand away from your mouth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck, Simon, keep going.”

You felt yourself growing closer to an orgasm with each approaching second, hands slapping the metal behind you to relieve the heat. Ghost’s thrusts were nothing short of sloppy now, three fingers in at their cruel pace.

“That’s it, come on my fingers. Nice and slow.”

You’d never admit it, but he had such a fucking way with words. So much that one sentence alone had you lathering his fingers in cum, drawing a thin line of slick substance between them as he pulled out of you.

His arms dipped down to encircle your legs, lifting you to sit on the edge of a crate. Now decently higher above, you glanced down, the arousal between your legs growing with no doubt as you watched him sink to his knees. Tugging your jeans down a little further, he hungrily pried your legs apart before glancing up at you, and plummeting his face between your legs.

A sweet moan fell from your lips as the coarse pad of Ghost’s tongue licked up your folds, stopping to swirl around your bud before moving back down to your hole. Just as you were beginning to enjoy the slow pace, he shoved his tongue inside of your pussy, sliding against areas even his fingers didn’t satisfy. One of the hands holding your legs open began toying with your clit once more, eliciting a string of curses from your mouth as you felt your next orgasm start to build.

Though he’d never admit it, Ghost always thought you had a beautiful voice. The way you accentuated some words and let others fall over like rain water enticed him to no end. And now, hearing the sing sing moans and whimpers spilling from you was undoubtedly catching his attention, causing him to glance up from your pussy.

You, on the other hand, had never been shy about complimenting him. You’d always drone on about how nice his accent sounded, how perfectly cocky he was.. Hell, the list never ends. However, if there was something you made sure he was aware of, it was how gorgeous his eyes were. Piercing oak and softly shaped; always adorned with an intimidating smear of black around them.

And with the way they stared up at you now? Your composure was snapped and broken beyond repair.

Seconds later you felt yourself crying out on your second orgasm, leaning back as Ghost hungrily lapped up whatever dripped out of you. He stood up after a good 20 seconds, the upper hand side of his mask noticeably drenched in your juices. He let out a sigh at this, raising a hand to tug what was left of it off.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Ghost without his mask on, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Dirty blonde locks sat plastered against his forehead, longer than what you remembered. However, the moment was short lived, as his eyes were soon to harden back to the way they had looked when you first encountered.

“What’s your plan after this?”

“To steal any information from here, and get Hassan’s location from the girl.”

“You know she wont talk.” He pressed, leaning closer to your face. “What then?”

Oh.

Your mouth contorted into a sickeningly fake smile as you ran a hand along his face, stopping to caress lightly over his cheek.

“You want me to beg for your help, don’t you?”

He only grew closer at this, warm breaths fanning over your mouth in drawn out waves.

“No, I just want you to make the right decision.”

You scoffed, thumb slowly coming down to run over his lip.

“Aren’t I doing that right now?”

A hum answered your inquiry as he pressed his lips against yours, tongue greedily sliding around the inside to get every taste of you. Muffled moans mingled between the both of you, leading Ghost to press his thighs against your own. One of his hands slipped down to finish unzipping what you hadn’t, the other running along your chest, reaching under your bra to cup and squeeze your breasts one at a time.

You eventually broke apart from his lips because of the ache, glancing down to see him smearing his precum along his dick. Your legs vibrated at each push of his hands against your skin, gently clamping down on your flesh before breaking one hand away to drag his cock against your already weeping pussy.

“Think you can take all of me, sweetheart?”

You nodded feverishly, already growing hot at the pure cockiness present in his tone. What was a small match erupted into a flame as he pushed into you, trailing embers down your walls with each inch he moved. You’d never felt so full in your life, groaning shamelessly as he bottomed out, moving back after a few seconds to adjust you to his length.

“Simon, please.. fuck.” You exhaled roughly, head tilting back to alleviate some of the pressure. “Faster, please.”

A screech caught itself in your throat as he began to thrust inside of you, hands moving up to cage around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. This allowed his cock to burrow even deeper than before, the pleasure rousing incoherent phrases from your lips. Ghost eagerly tilted his head up at this, messily taking your lips in his and greedily swallowing all of the sounds from your throat.

Your hands dug into the sheer fabric of his coat, legs feebly wrapping around his waist in an attempt to stay grounded. You mumbled something along the lines of “.. please.. faster” against his lips, rousing a drawn out groan from his throat at the sound. The slaps of his cock against your pussy grew louder as he increased his speed, filling your ear with a mixture of lewd pants and moans.

“He’ll never fuck you like this, Cobra. Never.”

Ghost choked on the last part of his sentence, letting out an almost animalistic moan at the rate his cock was slamming inside of you. Each thrust grew sloppier, filling him with the carnal need to suck the breath out of your lungs, moving to nip at your neck after you gasped for air. His teeth picked at your skin skillfully, drawing out just enough force to have you sobbing his name, desperately clawing at his back for any leverage.

“My god- Simon!” You cried, raising a hand to grasp his hair. “M’ gonna.. cum.”

“.. shit…”

To be completely truthful, you hadn’t experienced anything like this with Graves in your life. The sweltering blister of heat in your midsection ignited further with every thrust, a release itching to come out as your overstimulated walls clenched around him for the third time. Blistering tears streaked down your cheeks as your orgasm came crashing around Ghost’s cock, drawing a beautiful moan from his lips as he chased his own high.

He abruptly pulled out, mixing streaks of white with the arousal already pooling in between your legs. Panting lightly, Ghost helped you down onto the ground after you zipped your clothes back on, never letting go of your shoulders as you regained composure in your legs.

“You know can’t do this without us.” He spoke, voice just above a whisper. “Come back to base with us, we’ll roll out an operation tomorrow.”

You slowly shook your head at him, hands turning his inside out mask before taking his ungloved hand and placing it inside.

“You know I can’t do that.” You sighed, running a hand along his forearm. “Someone needs to be inside, and I need to make sure Graves gets out safe if you’re really planning on doing what you said.”

“No.” His tone lowered as if you’d flipped a switch in his head, firmly taking hold of your wrists, eyes narrowing dangerously at you. “It’s either us or him. You have to choose.”

It’s either me or him. You have to choose.

You inhaled sharply, digging a device holding your frequency inside out of your vest.

“You know I’d always choose you.”

Your hands clasped around his own as you placed the device in his care.

“Just… try not to kill him. He’s looked out for me more than you know.”

Heaving a small sigh, Ghost pocketed your device before leaning down, lips hovering just inches from yours.

“No promises, Cobra.”

Finally.

“Where are you going, Riley?”

Your hand encloses around the base of his arm, twisting cruelly as the other spins him your way. Black polyester shifts at your fingertips, and you feel his muscles twitch under the jacket.

Ghost looks down at you, eyes faintly parted in shock. You nearly recoil at the sight. His features are ridden with fatigue— eyeblack smudged carelessly around his lashes, hollowing out sunken eye bags that make it look like he hasn’t slept for days.

You open your mouth to question him, until your knee knocks against the fly of his jeans. Glancing down, you find yourself pressed against the outline of his cock, strained against denim and nearly searing through it.

“Huh.” You smirk, lips painted coy. “Having a rough week, honey?”

Ghost sinks down partially on the wall you have him pinned against. His hood is far gone by the winds, and you’re surprised the cigarette he dropped hasn’t blown away yet. Smile sticking to your face, one of your feet stomps on it, languidly dragging the remains against concrete.

“Thought you wouldn’t notice I wasn’t around.” His voice is low, gravely and thick with impatience because he knows he’s caught. “Guess I’m not the only bad one here.”

There’s a low ambiance from inside, softly buzzing the wall he’s pushed up against. His gaze drifts to the side, fighting the urge to push you off of him and take to the woods.

The night is young, the sun gone some hours ago when you and the rest of the Task Force arrived. Instead of drowning yourself in liquor from your recent success in Berlin, you took to shadows and scathed trees in search of your Lieutenant. He’s aware that you’ve been worried sick about him since you touched down in Germany, and he’s also aware that you no longer care due to the erection pressing against your leg.

Ghost looks back at you, shallow blues swallowed by a forlorn sky.

“Well, you got me right where you want me.”

It’s been a few days, nearly a week since you’ve seen even a shadow of Ghost around. He’s been avoiding you because of something like this? Trying to flip if on you when he’s cornered? Ridiculous.

“Always trying to soften the blow on yourself.” You scoff, fingers looping around the frame of his belt buckle. “You’re pathetic.”

Your hand pulls on the last of the zipper, pushing his belt loop to the side, and tugging his boxers down. Ghost groans, low and savory, his cock nestled against a faded scar on his abdomen. Your hand moves from the band of his underwear, fingers daintily running along the base of his dick.

Mild hums join in with the music from inside, and you hear boots kicking up dust from the exit around the corner. Ghost reaches for your hand, but you’re quick, moving the other to delve under his mask. His lips quiver under the cold press of your hand, and you smile, pressing him further toward the wall.

“Don’t want other people hearing us, yeah?”

He nods, half heartedly, blonde eyelashes shifting under amber lamplight. You hum, smoothing your pointer finger along the tip of his dick. Pre drips against your skin, warm and sticky. Low vibrations hit the hand that covers his mouth as you lather his length in his own mess.

It’s loud, the squelch that joins squawking crows and chilling drafts. Ghost’s breath is warm against your skin, choppy and dripping with saliva as you work his dick. His face drips with sweat, skin warm to the touch despite the winds that roll over it.

“Needed me this bad, huh?” You simper, teasingly squeezing his balls, hung low and heavy. “I wonder what the others would think, not being able to keep your dick in your pants. What’s gotten into you, Riley?”

Riley. He shudders, hips involuntarily bucking toward your hand. You grin, tongue lining your teeth in satisfaction. He was right, you have him exactly where you want him.

“Well,” you release your hand from his mouth, increasing the pace of your strokes as you do so. “Got anything to say?”

Ghost gasps at the release, pooling fogged breaths to the night air, other hand wiping the spit from his chin.

“A little disciplinary action couldn’t hurt.” He sighs, eyes smug and gratified. “Think I’ve learned my lesson, but you can finish your punishment if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes, watching with exasperation as his lips quirk up. He always does find a way to turn things in his favor.

“Dick.”

He hums, quiet and bobbing softly against his adam’s apple. You feel his dick throb in your hold, hot and slick against your palm. Ghost cocks one of his fingers up, motioning for you to let off. Your hand leaves his chest and his neck cranes forward, arm snaking around your waist to hold you against him.

His lips taste as they always do, remnants of war and gunpowder mixing with ashes from his last cigarette. His canines prod at the flesh of your mouth, loosening only when he feels his release nearing.

Through parted lips he moans, low and satiated. You savor every noise, feeling the last waves of ecstasy wash off as warm liquid leaks over your fingers. You part, sloppily wiping his mess of the black of your pants as he tidies himself.

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

SFW

⤫ in all honesty, simon doesn’t sleep much, especially after or during deployments. he has a particular habit of pacing around during the night, and will often sit by you on his side, but he won’t sleep. part of this stems from deep rooted anxieties concerning war; he’s seen what happens to people who let their guard down, and he’s not willing to even think about taking such a risk.

⤫ if you’re also the type of insomniac he finds himself to be, your nights will often be spent staring out of your nearest window or balcony, indulging in mindless chatter until it’s time to hit the road again. in these moments, you’ll find simon more vulnerable than usual, and he’ll take it upon himself to talk about things he wouldn’t dare speak of other times. there’s always an underlying look of distance in his eyes when he speaks of his past, and you know as much as him that he wishes it was different.

⤫ when he does sleep, it starts off distant. he’ll quietly shuffle himself onto his side of the bed, give you more than enough room, and bid a whisper of a good night call before he’s silent. if you choose to face him, you’ll see that he often sleeps straight on his back, half-lidded gaze dragging shapes into the ceiling, and, when he does finally succumb, that’s when he tends to get handsy. part of you assumes it’s because of his dreams, and he’s subconsciously latching out, but you don’t stop him.

⤫ you tend to find yourself being greeted by an ever so slightly contorted face of shock and rapid shuffles every morning. simon knows his sleeping habits, he ends up clinging to you every time he falls asleep, yet he can’t help but utter an apology every morning and scramble to get off you. it takes time to get him to let go of this habit, and eventually he does, waking up only a little less shocked and reluctant to pull away.

⤫ is amazing at making tea for any occasion. if you’re restless, don’t fret, simon has something that’ll put you to sleep halfway through the mug.

⤫ following that, if you don’t like tea, simon is always willing to talk you to sleep. he’s nothing if not a great listener, so he’ll have you ramble until your words are drifting off to meaningless drawls.

⤫ contrary to what others may believe, i don’t think simon would sleep with the mask on. he would only be open to sleeping in the first place if he knew he it was impossible to be compromised, and he knows you, so he’s okay with it. however, when he first started sleeping with you, he did wear it, and it took nearly a year for him to take it off.

NSFW

⤫ simon doesn’t see sleeping sleeping as a terribly different thing than the regular, but the question of whether he’d succumb to such a thing depends on his mood.

⤫ on deployments, chances of sleeping with simon are slim, as the threat of being somewhere he doesn’t know makes him cautious. adding onto that, if you did end up sleeping together, you wouldn’t hear much, as his mind is typically elsewhere.

⤫ cautiousness is a major turn off for him. the chance of you being compromised in such a vulnerable act is something he just won’t risk, so you’d only get to be with him in secure areas.

⤫ his energy fluctuates depending on the type of missions you’d led that day. if something went wrong, (especially concerning you) expect simon to be on the more brash side. scolding flows in and out of as many rounds as you can manage, and when you tap out, he’ll be soon to follow.

⤫ the softer side of simon only really comes out in the safety of your home. not having one himself, being welcomed in the comfort of your place is akin to a haven for him. he’ll treat you as if you were the finest piece of glass he’d ever seen, and would stay in bed with you no matter how restless he feels.

— KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

SFW

⤫ i’m just gonna say, either a totally chaotic sleeper, or so quiet you can’t even tell there’s someone next to you.

⤫ gaz usually tends to lean on the more hectic type of sleeping on deployments, as the adrenaline doesn’t quite leave until he’s completely knocked out. this could be really bad, or really good, depending on if you like to be smothered when you sleep.

⤫ no matter what position you’re in, your limbs are bound to get tangled with gaz’s. on particularly “bad” mornings, you’ll have to wait until he wakes up to escape.

⤫ however, gaz does have a calm side when it comes to sleeping. he’ll knock out with a hand wrapped around your waist, subconsciously pulling you up against his side.

⤫ gaz is a snorer. a quiet one at that, but if you lean in close enough, you can hear it. if you tell him, he’ll insist that he doesn’t and you’re just teasing him.

⤫ i cant stress this enough, but night chats with gaz are a regular. he could talk for hours on end, and it only gets worse when he’s tired. if you’re chatty as well, expect a multi topic conversation with your lover before bed.

NSFW

⤫ accidentally (?) loud. every place you touch seems to be a sensitive spot for gaz, and knowing that, it’s rather simple to get him going. keeping him quiet is always fun, especially when you’re in close proximity to others.

⤫ always has enough energy to please you before bed. though, he does prefer taking it easy so you can both relax properly.

⤫ aftercare is a little tough with gaz, as once he’s tapped out, he’s nearly spent. despite this, he has an iron grip and will refuse to let go despite how sweaty you both are.

⤫ pretty big pillow talker. gaz loves to ramble about the things he wants to experience with you one day, and the intimacy of laying beside you makes him feel like a love struck boy.

— JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

SFW

⤫ hugger, plain and simple. soap’s grasp is so tight that you can’t even begin to pry yourself from his grasp.

⤫ soap is big on swooning over you when he’s tired, no matter how disheveled you may look. he typically puts you to sleep by mumbling sweet nothings in your ear while drawing soft kisses over your hair.

⤫ can also be a chaotic sleeper like gaz, however, he’s usually more on the calm side. he has trouble sleeping if your skin isn’t touching, though.

⤫ would never admit it, but soap loves to be the big spoon. something about feeling you flush against him develops a sense of security in his mind, and makes sleeping much easier.

⤫ sleeps with an eye mask on, and is not ashamed of it one bit. his favorite is the one with cat eyes and ears that you bought him for his birthday.

NSFW

⤫ unlike some of his comrades, soap is down to sleep with you almost anywhere. he’s willingly to play a game of risk if it means he can satisfy you.

⤫ missions tend to get him riled up, and with that, he’s more aggressive in bed. if you can handle it, he’ll take you for a few rounds in a row before abruptly tapping out.

⤫ is super into cockwarming you during the night, especially if you’re too tired to do anything else. the feeling of being inside you puts soap to sleep faster than anything else.

— JOHN PRICE

SFW

⤫ heavy, heavy sleeper. once he’s out, he’s not waking up until the morning.

⤫ prefers to have a cigar before getting into bed. will gladly share a light with you if you’re interested.

⤫ only sleeps on his back, but loves to hold a grip on you. his favorite way to sleep is with your arms wrapped around his neck.

⤫ if you have a hard time falling asleep, price has a few tactics in the back of his head to help. depending on the night, he usually ends up raking a hand through your hair, or softly droning on about something you certainly don’t care about. tea also works if you’re particularly restless.

⤫ on deployments, price doesn’t tend to sleep nearly as much as usual. on some nights, all you can do is stay up and talk until you fall asleep. during the later hours is usually when price lets his words slip, and in those moments do you truly hear how much he values you and the task force.

⤫ doesn’t sleep until the later hours of the night due to his duties as the task force’s captain. however, when he can, price will sit beside you in bed while you drift off, and humor any of your requests until you’re asleep.

NSFW

⤫ despite the pent up stress that follows him through the day, price isn’t a big fan of drawn out sex at night. adrenaline will only allow him to manage a quickie before he’s knocked out.

⤫ however, price is super into giving you oral before bed if you’re willing. and, knowing him, he’ll have you shaking out an orgasm (and exhausted) before the five minute mark.

⤫ off deployment, price is one of the best service partners you could ask for. if you’re restless before bed, he’ll make sure to take his time and deliver whatever pleasures you desire.

⤫ on the other side, if he’s in some type of mood, price will have you singing until your vocal chords run dry. when this happens, you’re both passed out just barely after your last round.

— KÖNIG

SFW

⤫ absolutely massive. in most cases, way larger than you and will absolutely smother you (accidentally.) if you happen to be around the same size as him, expect to be wrestling over blankets every night.

⤫ on the topic of blankets, könig simply takes up so much of the bed that he ended up getting his own blanket. it’s weighted, too, and he is very possessive over it.

⤫ huge fan of soft touches. könig typically isn’t in the mood to talk much when he’s tired, and would rather fall asleep holding your hand.

⤫ always bids you a quiet “schlaf gut” with a kiss on the cheek before bed. it’s one of his odd necessities, but sweet nonetheless.

⤫ pretty clumsy sleeper. könig tries his best to be cautious, especially if you’re a margin smaller than him, but it’s pretty much impossible to keep him from flopping around once he’s asleep. you’ve just learned to deal with sleeping below a giant mass.

⤫ has a similar case as ghost when it comes to wearing his mask to sleep. will only take it off if he’s sure the both of you are safe.

NSFW

⤫ like soap, könig is a huge fan of you cockwarming him to sleep. the feeling puts him at ease, and usually has him asleep pretty fast.

⤫ if he’s more needy, könig will silently plead for you to give him some sort of relief. his favorite way to relax is with your hand wrapped around his cock, and silencing his whimpers with your lips.

⤫ most of your more heated make out sessions are in bed, when you’re too tired to do anything else. könig will be on your lips for hours, and he really gets going when you trail kisses down his jawline.

— GRAVES

SFW

⤫ stomach. sleeper. always has one of his hands on his stomach, and the other is usually wrapped around your back.

⤫ if you’re not allergic to animals, expect to share a bed with one. graves has a small tuxedo cat at home that adores him to no end, and will always manage to shove in between you.

⤫ (reluctantly) graves allows you to pamper him before bed. he’ll be too tired to even complain about the extensive routine you put him through sometimes, and will fall asleep with cucumbers over his eyelids.

⤫ in the summer, graves sleeps like a 50 year old dad. won’t sleep without the window open or ac on, and snores at a moderate volume. however, he’s completely silent in the winter.

⤫ instead of one or two pillows, graves has a singular massive one that he sleeps with. you argue that he should buy something softer, but he wouldn’t trade that pillow for anything.

⤫ if it’s possible, graves needs to sleep with white noise. whether it’s the soft buzz of a random channel on TV, or rain patterning on the window sill, any noise will help him sleep.

— NSFW

⤫ graves sleeps with you, a lot. having sex in the later hours is just his thing.

⤫ if you have the night off, graves will make sure he takes his time with you. he’ll go numerous rounds over a couple hours, and it’ll end with the both of you completely knocked out before it’s really that late.

⤫ on deployments, graves has the drive of a rabbit. he’ll take you almost anywhere, as long as it’s sheltered and safe.

⤫ relating to the last points, if the two of you were on a particularly dangerous mission and couldn’t sleep together, he will be all over you the moment you arrive home. most times, he’ll take you right on the couch in your living room, and you won’t even make it to bed.