Your captain who just adores to bury his face into you, no matter when or where.

On a mission? He'll nuzzle into your shoulder in the truck or helicopter between locations. He's not even fussed when the others wolf-whistle or take pictures, just hums and gives them the middle finger.

In the mornings? You'll wake up with him snuggled by your side: as close to you as physically possible, fast asleep with his beard tickling your bare skin. You run a hand through his tussled hair, watching his pretty eyes flutter open as he murmurs a tired "mornin', my boy," and wraps his arms tighter around you.

You need to fix something high up? He'll come up to you with a soft smile, then burrow his face into your thigh, one hand on your lower back to make sure you don't fall off the chair or desk you're precariously standing on.

thinking about Roach lying on top of you, fingers tangled in your hair as he fucks you, heavy breathing and small moans when you praise him, tell him how good he's doing.

His face is maskless and pink all over, freckles standing out against his blush. He's slamming into you, thrusts uneven but neither of you are too bothered, your cock leaking pre against both your stomachs.

You grunt as he starts to reach his climax, becoming rougher and setting his teeth on your shoulder to muffle a loud moan when he cums, hips pressing against yours, your brain foggy as he pulls out, using three fingers to keep his mess inside you.

Who would've guessed that the Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra had a thing for your spit? Well, nobody, apart from you, of course - and even then you didn't know until he was underneath you on your bed, the tip of your cock just entering his ass, asking shyly for you to spit in his mouth, to use him and make him your good boy.

And as always, you find it incredibly hard to resist his flustered face, agreeing and immediately leaning down to kiss his neck; the same time as you push the rest of the way into him, smirking at his moans.

Tilting his chin up with a finger and easing his mouth open, all gentle whilst moving your hips at a slow rhythm. Kissing him and drooling into his mouth as you break apart, eyes fixed on his as they widen a little then flutter half-closed, his hand reaching to touch his cock.

"Más, cariño," he pleads, hand pumping quickly as your own pace speeds up. His face goes red again as he parts his lips, tongue timidly poking out a little in encouragement. Pressing a small kiss to his Adam's apple, you lick a stripe up his skin, heart skipping a beat at his loud groan. Pulling back to build up saliva then harshly, suddenly spitting in his mouth, slamming into him harder.

"Tragas," you order, thrusts becoming harder and sloppier as you reach your climax. He does as you ask, his own cum spilling over his stomach, moaning and gasping and looking up at you with tears in his gorgeous brown eyes. "Good boy, corazón, my love."

Price whose blush covers his entire face when he's flustered. And you fucking love it.

Walking up to him and leaning over to murmur in his ear, telling him exactly what you're gonna do to him later; grinning as his eyes widen a little. Him pulling his hat down over his face to hide how red it's gotten with there being other people in the room.

Kissing him in front of everyone when one of you returns safe from a mission, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him. Pulling back to see his flush, laughing fondly when he buries his head in the crook of your neck, shade deepening.

Going into his office at random points in the day, checking he's alone before climbing onto his desk chair to sit on his lap facing him; watching how flustered he gets when he pulls your hips closer to his. Sometimes you'll just sit there, happy to let him continue his work with one hand on the small of your back. But other times you're feeling more needy - desperate to see him so ardent. So you'll start to kiss and suck at his neck, eyes open as you nip the skin softly, gazing up at how your captain quickly turns crimson just from you.

You just adore it when the two of you are in his room, your calloused hands holding his waist and his arms slung around your neck, strong biceps resting on your shoulders. Both your shirts discarded on the floor, your bare chests pressing together as you messily make out, stumbling around in a blind search for the bed. His skin is pink, reaching all across his face and down his neck, and your eyes crack open every so often to admire it.