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Joining Task Force 141 wasn’t a firsthand decision of mine when I went into the military. My path to the special squadron was like wading through a thick swamp, only to discover it split off into two riverbanks; one infested with alligators or one that stretched out into a lifeless, boring desert that eventually landed into a prosperous city.
Usually, when an infantry marine is handed that choice, they choose the latter, which is smart. I’ll give em’ that. They live in peace and quiet, finally away from the shitstain of a job. But, every once in a while, there’s a chance that the soldier was molded by violence. Often made for it. Unable to rid the taste, eager for more. And that happened to be my case.
The physical and mental tests were just the thing I had been looking for after years of stagnation in my career. I remember being so bored that slogging through those courses that seemed designed by a sadist was a thrill. Every slip and stumble meant more sweat and bruises. That idea had me working twice as harder. And the mental evaluations? They were less “let’s see if you can think under pressure” and more “let’s see if we can break you down into a quivering mess of indecision and self-doubt.” Good times, really. Somehow, I made it through and found myself signing the admission paperwork for Task Force 141.
I had no real plan. Half of me was too sucked into the adrenaline to think about what I was doing. Also, I didn’t expect to make the cut. I thought I was going to come out of it with a leg paralyzed from the stories I’ve heard. That should’ve made me turn the other way around and run for it, but instead, it drew me in and at this point, sounded like home. So, I went for it and decided to build a new little foundation. To say it’s going well is an understatement, surprisingly. Most of the men I met were friendly and helpful. Finding that behavior in the Marines is like finding diamonds.
The first one I was introduced to was the head honcho, of course; Captain Price. The old geezer was full of stories, I can tell from a simple look at him that he’s more than fitting for leader. However, there’s something about him that got on my nerves every bit or so; and that was his fluency in sarcasm. But, it never deterred me from raising my chin to him. I mean, I’ve got to respect a guy who can spot a sniping position from a mile away and still manage to learn how to brew a drink that could wake the dead. Seriously, Price could make a tea so strong it would double as jet fuel. I stayed up a full night after one cup of the damned thing. One. I never made that mistake again. Overall, when he’s by my side in missions, I’m thankful. Everyone could vouch that he’s the sharpest out of the bunch, it explains his rank.
Then there’s, Sergeant Mactavish, or Soap, as he’s known. Soap’s humor is like a breath of fresh air amidst all the stressing. I’ll admit, I struggled at first to keep up with his vocabulary. “Bairn" and "wee" being used regularly by him became confusing. So, out of curiosity and a tiny pinch of bravado, I joked at him to assign me a daily word. Soap thought it was the best idea ever despite the humor and has since been giving me the very thing I asked for. It’s like having my own personal Scottish dictionary with a side of manic rambling. No objections to that.
Sergeant Garrick, ‘Gaz’, was a great relief to be around too. I got along with him right away, in fact. We bonded over everything from the stupid, simple stuff like our favorite foods to the fact that we played the same video games. Who knew a soldier in Task Force 141 could have hobbies? Not me, but definitely appreciated. He’s pretty laid-back and easy to talk to, and that made him a go-to guy for me when a day got a little too quiet.
Then there’s Sergeant Sanderson, aka Roach. Roach and I didn’t get to spend much time together, just the occasional nod and brief exchange. Although I haven’t had a chance to really get to know him, he gave off a cool vibe. It’s all fine as long as we work smoothly together and get the job done. That’s the only thing I care about.
Now, let’s get into the more dramatic details. Come on, this is the Corps, there has to be an issue and that issue happened to be the very Lieutenant Riley. More specifically, ‘Ghost’, or what I like to nickname him, ‘Dickwad’. Hm, where do I start? Let’s just say Dickwad has been the real challenge for me here. It’s been months, and despite my best efforts, I haven’t been able to crack a good impression out of him at all. It’s almost like he’s taken an interest in making sure that I’m reminded of where I am during training. I expected the rough treatment. Hell, I fucking joined the Marines, but Ghost seemed to act as if I’m his personal project to toy with. Demeaning comments were a regular with him, one after the other in whatever I was doing.
I understood it; everyone has their role, and the higher-ups have to beat that into you until you’re tougher than a bull horn. Ghost has been a lieutenant for a while, so I could really be no different than everyone else in terms of treatment. But there are times where I wonder if earning his approval is even possible. He appeared to be a little lighter towards Soap and Gaz, though, that was most likely due to how long they’ve been serving in the Task Force. Maybe after a year, he’ll see that I’m not just some recruit. But that’s if I don’t get bored or killed and stay in the 141 long enough.
So after all of that thinking, here I am, sitting in Mess Hall with a cup of coffee in my hands; recalling recent events with a bored look on my face. I hate days off. Most would rejoice, many of my fellow jarheads prayed for them. But for me, it meant no rush and I strived for that. I didn’t come here to sit on my ass, I came here to be unable to. Guess I can’t avoid what’s needed.
I lifted the mug to my lips, testing the temperature. Still too hot. Great, I’m going to be here for a while. I set it back down, letting the warmth seep into my hands to try and distribute it. As much as I complain, it’s much better than where I was before. In the old infantry, the barracks were rough—no two ways about it. The heat was suffocating, especially in cramped quarters where air circulation was more of a cruel joke than a reality. I’d sweat through my gear before I could even step outside.
The days were also long, filled with monotonous routines: cleaning weapons, maintaining equipment, prepping for patrols, and standing post for hours on end. The missions we did get were often more about holding the line than pushing forward, which basically was a lot of waiting and a lot of the same old thing. Compared to what I do now with 141, it was like night and day. I’m barely managing to get over the fact that I’m here.
I took another sip, testing the coffee again. It was finally cooled down, so I took a swig. Bitter as all hell, just the way I like it. I let out a sigh, feeling the rush of caffeine hit my system, and closed my eyes for a moment. What to do, what to do. I could savor the luxury of a rinse in my own shower, in my own room. I’ve been meaning to get a full wash and the best part of Special Forces was the granted privacy. And the high probability of dying a horrific death, but I’m not focusing on that right now.
Yep, a nice, long shower was in my future. I finished off the rest of the coffee in one go, scrunching up my face as the dirty sludge assaulted my taste buds. Disgusting, but effective. I dragged myself over to the sink, rinsing the cup out quickly and placing it onto the rack nearby. That’s when I heard the heavy footsteps of Soap entering Mess Hall. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. The guy had a way of making every entrance sound like a celebration.
“Oi, (F/N)! Ready for your Scottish word of the day?” he called out, his accent still making the sentence sound like a challenge, but I was getting the hang of it.
I couldn’t help but grin as I turned to face him. “Let’s hear it, Soap. Hit me with your best.”
He beamed like a little kid about to show off his favorite toy. “Awright, here you go: ‘blether.’ Means to chat or talk nonsense, kinda like what I’m doin’ right now.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Blether, huh? I’ll have to remember that one for one of your rants on comms.”
He let out a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. “Aye, you do that. It’ll help me homesickness.”
Soap quit his talking and sauntered over to the cabinet, grabbing a protein bar and ripping into it like it owed him money. He took a massive bite, chewing with the enthusiasm of a starving man, and then, with his mouth half-full, he turned to me, bits of chocolate or whatever the hell was in that thing showing. “Fancy a wee spar in the trainin’ room?”
Before I could even think of an excuse like how I wanted to have a shower, he was already heading out the door. The guy didn’t even wait for a response. Typical Soap.
I sighed, finishing up at the sink, and then jogged after him. “You looking for a beating, MacTavish?” I called as I caught up, giving him a playful shove.
He raised his brows, that mischievous glint in his eyes as he pushed back. “Ah, think you can gie me a doin’, eh? Ready for a bit of a stramash?”
Stramash. I recognized that word. “Oh, so you want to get battered, huh?” I quipped, proud of myself for actually remembering the lingo. “Careful, mate, or you’ll end up looking like you took a right good skelping.”
Soap paused, clearly impressed for a second before he shot me a sideways grin. “Look at you, (F/N), pickin’ up the accent perfect an’ all. I’m proud.”
I shrugged, attempting to look modest. “Only trying to understand what insults you’re throwing at me, is all.”
We made our way into the training room, a place that could easily be mistaken for a gym if you ignored the giant mats and the general impending pain. The second I stepped inside, I peeled off my jacket and tossed it to the side, taking a moment to glance around. The place was mostly empty, except for one person sitting off in the corner, perched on a bench with an air to him that I could pick up from a mile away; Ghost.
The moment I saw him, I could feel the oxygen catch in my throat. He was staring right back at me. His eyes—well, the bits I could see of them from his mask—pried into me with that cold expression he always had. I knew I was probably overthinking it, but there was something about the way he looked that always set me on edge. Like he was sizing me up, figuring out if I was worth the time or if he should just kill me now and get it over with. I had to calm myself down, remember that he’s on my team, that he’s always like this. Nothing personal, just…Ghost being Ghost.
Before I could get lost in my head, Soap’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Oi! Quit yer stallin’, (F/N), and get over here! You ready to fight or what?”
I broke eye contact with Ghost to focus on him and jogged over to the mat. “Alright, alright, keep your shirt on,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders and trying to loosen my muscles up. “Let’s see if that protein bar gives you any extra strength, or if you’re just full of shit as usual.”
The Scot grinned, getting into a stance and raising his fists. “We’ll see who’s full of shit when I’m done with ye.”
It started off exactly as I expected, Soap coming at me like he was possessed. Quick, throwing jabs and hooks with that same recklessness he brought to everything. I managed to dodge the first few, but barely. I forgot how much of a damn whirlwind he was.
“C’mon, (F/N)! You’re not gonna win by dancin’ around!” Soap taunted, a cocky grin plastered across his face as he lunged at me with a well-aimed punch.
I ducked under his swing, feeling the rush of air as it missed my head merely by a couple of inches. “Dancing’s all part of the strategy, Soap! I’m just making sure you get your work in first.”
I wasn’t kidding, either. Soap fought like he lived—full throttle, no brakes. The guy had stamina for days, but I knew if I could keep my cool and avoid getting clocked, he’d eventually tire himself out. At least, that was the plan.
For a few minutes, it actually seemed to be working. I landed a few hits of my own, nothing too hard, but enough to show I wasn’t just there to take a beating. He grunted with each impact, but he never lost that damn smile of his. It was like he was having the time of his life. He was, and that’s exactly the reason why I decided I belonged here.
But then, as if he’d suddenly decided playtime was over, Soap changed tactics. He started to mix up his attacks, feinting left before swinging right, aiming low then striking high. Dodging was all I could do to keep up now, my punches growing less frequent as I focused more on not getting knocked out.
“Had enough yet?” He asked, a little breathless but still annoyingly chipper.
“Not even close,” I shot back, though the sweat dripping down my face and the burn in my muscles were starting to say otherwise. Nah, I’m not going to let that phase me.
I went for a counterattack, throwing a quick jab to his side, but he seemed to anticipate it. He sidestepped smoothly and brought his knee up, catching me in the ribs. The hit knocked the wind out of me, and before I could recover, he followed up with a solid hook to my jaw.
Stars danced in my vision as I stumbled back, trying to stay on my feet while the taste of metal filled my mouth. Soap didn’t press the attack once he realized. Instead, he stepped back from what I could see, giving me a chance to regain my balance and my sight.
“You alright, (F/N)?” he asked, though I could tell he already knew the answer.
I shook my head to clear the dizziness and wiped off any blood around my lip, forcing a smile. “Just peachy. You hit like a fucking truck, though.”
He chuckled, lowering his fists a bit. “You’re tougher than ye look. Didn’t think you’d last this long.”
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises,” I replied, straightening up and raising my fists again. “Ready for round two?”
Soap’s eyes lit up, clearly eager to keep going. But before we could dive back in, a voice cut through the air, low and threatening.
“Enough.”
We both froze, turning to see Ghost standing just off the mat, huge arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the bench, but the way he was looking at us, it was clear he’d been watching the whole time.
“That’s enough for today,” Ghost repeated, his gaze shifting between the two of us. “No point in beating each other senseless before the next mission.”
Soap’s grin faded slightly and replaced with a more serious expression. He nodded, lowering his fists completely. “Aye, you’re right, Ghost. Just a bit of fun.”
“Fun’s over,” Ghost said flatly, his brown eyes locking onto mine for a minute longer than necessary. There was something unreadable about him, something that made my stomach tighten and every alarm in my head go off; screaming for me to get as far away from him as possible.
I dropped my fists, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Guess I’ll have to take a rain check on that rematch, Soap.”
Soap did his usual slap on the shoulder, his cheerfulness returning. “No worries, (F/N). I’ll be ready when you are.”
Once we both stepped off the mat, I nervously glanced back at Ghost. He was already turning away, heading for the door without another word. Whatever had just happened between us, it was done and over, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow earned a small sliver of his respect. Or well, I hoped I had. He didn’t chew me out for a mistake, so that had to be something.
“Well, that was a good warm-up,” Soap said, grabbing his towel and tossing me mine. “What d’ye say we go our ways and get a shower in?” Did he read my mind?
I nodded, wiping the sweat from my face. “Yeah, sounds pretty damn good right about now.”
As we walked out, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Sure, Soap had handed me my ass on a silver platter, but I’d held my own—at least for a little while. And maybe, just maybe, I was really starting to blend in with the crazy bunch of assholes.
After a quick shower, I found myself back in my room, the cool AC a welcome relief to the rushing blood in my veins. The adrenaline was also starting to wear off, leaving behind that pleasant exhaustion that reminded me I was alive. Not that I’d forgotten, but it’s always nice to get a reminder from time to time. Especially when it’s the feeling I chase, my drug of choice. Hm, it seems this day off wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.
I toweled off and dressed in something comfortable, figuring I’d spend the rest of the day relaxing, maybe catching up on some sleep. I wasn’t about to let the chance slip by if I had it.
But the second I sat down on the edge of my bed, thoughts still buzzing, there was a knock at my door. I frowned, wondering who it could be. Soap, probably, looking to drag me into something else—maybe a round of cards or one of his famous “friendly” competitions, which usually ended with someone getting embarrassed or slightly injured.
“Come in,” I called out, figuring there was no point in ignoring it and it’d give me some form of entertainment.
The door creaked open, and to my surprise, it wasn’t Soap standing there. It was Captain Price.
“Captain,” I said, standing up a little straighter out of habit. I don’t slouch around higher-ups, not if I know what’s good for me. Learned that ever since the first day of boot camp.
“At ease, Sergeant,” he said, waving me down. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and gave me that infamous smile; one that seemed like he was a proud father visiting his son. “Heard you had a bit of a scrap with Soap earlier.”
I nodded, trying not to look too sheepish. “Just a friendly spar, sir. Nothing serious.”
Price chuckled, the sound deep and rough like gravel. Wish I had a voice like that. “Nothing with MacTavish is ever just ‘friendly.’ But that’s not why I’m here.”
I felt a twinge of nerves. When the captain seeks someone out, it’s either really good news or really bad news—never anything in between. “What’s on your mind, sir?”
He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “You’ve been with us for a few months now. Done good work, kept your head on straight when others might’ve lost theirs. But I’ve got something new for you. Some serious shit that’ll test whether you’re really cut out for this team. Might earn you a new shiny title.”
My heart skipped a beat. Was he offering a chance of a upper rank? Promotions didn’t happen often in the Task Force, but when they did, it wasn’t just a ‘Good job.’ It meant more responsibility, more trust, and a hell of a lot more danger. Yup, got me there. I’m in.
“Is this a new mission, Captain?” I asked, trying to keep myself leveled so I didn’t spill any of my batshit excitement.
“Something like that,” Price replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’re heading out tomorrow. High-priority target in the middle of hostile territory. Intel’s thin, and the risk is high. But, I need someone I can count on to keep their cool and follow orders. That someone’s you, Sergeant.”
I swallowed hard. “Understood, sir. What’s the objective?”
“Classified, for now,” he said, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. “You’ll get the details in the briefing tomorrow morning. Just be ready.”
He paused at the door, turning to give me one last look. “Oh, one more thing. Ghost… he’ll be keeping an eye on you during this op. Don’t take it personally. He’s just making sure you’re up to snuff.”
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought, just what I needed. Dickwad watching my every move like a hawk. But I nodded anyway. “Understood, sir.”
Price gave a curt nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him. I stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. Tomorrow, I’d be thrown into the deep end again, with Ghost’s judgmental eyes and scope on me the whole time. I know I was asking for something exciting, but it’s ruined if I have a babysitter from Hell on my ass the whole time.
But then again, nothing in the 141’s plans ever went without the lieutenant being involved. He was going to be there, regardless, so I’m just going to have to suck it up.
With a sigh, I sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I’d get some sleep after all—if I could stop my mind from jogging miles. But even as I laid here disgruntled, I had a weird anticipation building for it. Whatever tomorrow brought, I was ready to show out. Or at least, I’d better be.
Because in this line of work, there’s no such thing as a second chance.
————————————
The next morning, I found myself in the briefing room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone was there: Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and myself. From the looks of their serious faces, they seemed to know that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park nor could it be a laughing matter.
Price stood at the front, the familiar holographic map glowing behind him, highlighting a section of terrain in some remote corner of Eastern Europe. The location alone set my nerves on edge. Nothing good ever happened in places like that. Those were Russian hunting grounds.
“Listen up,” he began, “This mission is a high-risk extraction. Target is an asset we’ve had embedded in the Russian Ultranationalist movement for the last two years. Codename: Valkyrie. She’s been feeding us intel on Makarov’s network, but her cover’s been blown.”
Makarov. Just hearing the name made the room feel colder. That bastard had a hand in half of the misery in this world, and now we were about to dive headfirst into his backyard. Wonderful.
“She’s managed to stay alive so far,” Price continued, “but her last transmission indicated she’s been compromised. We’ve managed to narrow down that she could be holed up in an abandoned factory complex, here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “We’re going in to get her out, breathing.”
“Any idea on the opposition?” Soap asked, his tone serious for once.
The captain nodded. “Expect heavy resistance. Makarov’s men have likely surrounded the area. They’re not going to let her slip through their nasty fingers without a fight. We’ll be dealing with well-armed mercs, possibly Spetsnaz operatives.”
‘Ooo, real fun,’ I thought. Just the kind of welcoming committee I wanted.
“The factory complex is said to be full of underground tunnels,” he elaborated, moving back and forth as he spoke, “It’s going to be tight quarters, close combat. We do this fast and get Valkyrie out before they know what hit them.”
I listened carefully, feeling the excitement and rush come over me in waves. Close quarters meant things could get messy real quick. One wrong move, and the whole operation could go sideways. Oh yeah, this was beginning to sound like the exact mission I was looking forward to having one day.
“Sergeant (L/N),” Price shouted, turning his attention to me, “you’ll be with Soap. Objective is to secure the main entry point and cover our exfil route. Ghost and Gaz will move in from the west, clearing the way for me to reach Valkyrie. You good with that?”
I replied, flickering my attention between Soap and him, “Yes, sir.” Inside, my mind was bouncing around. This wasn’t a normal execution mission, this was a rescue, one that I couldn’t afford to fail or else I’d be coming back depressed.
“Good,” Price said, lingering on me for a moment like he knew I was a little nervous. “Don’t forget that time is not on our side. The longer we’re in there, the more likely Makarov’s men will take severe measures and leave her for us to find, dead. We need to be in and out before they have a chance to bite back.”
He clicked off the hologram, plunging the room into a dim glow as I was left to hear my heartbeat, louder than a drum. “Gear up. We leave in ten.”
Everyone moved to prepare. We rushed to grab our gear. I double-checked everything while endlessly repeating the mission details until they were engraved in my brain. The thought of facing off against Makarov’s forces was enough to make my anxiety flare up, but this was what I signed up for. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the bloodlust, the ability to let out my inner adrenaline junkie.
When I finished fixing my shoulder bands, Soap appeared at my side, that grin of his lower than normal because of the severity of this situation. “You ready for this, (F/N)?”
I nodded, tightening the strap on my vest now. “As ready as I’ll ever be, MacTavish. You?”
He scoffed, squeezing my arm like he knew I needed a bit of comfort. “Aye, I know you’ll do fine. Just stay close, keep your eyes open. You’ve got this. I’ll be there with you too, lad.”
Before I could say my thanks, I was only able to give him an appreciative smile until the Captain interrupted by calling for us to make our way to the helipad, where the rest of the team was already assembling. The chopper blades were spinning, kicking up dust as we climbed aboard. Then a couple of minutes later once we got into our seats, the bird lifted off. I caught a glimpse of Ghost sitting across from me, his eyes hidden behind that skull mask with his chin tilted downward. However, I felt him watching me. He didn’t say a thing, but the way he turned his head and glared piercing daggers made it clear—this mission was as much about extracting Valkyrie as it was about seeing if I could keep up with him.
I’ll show you.
The flight was shorter than expected, but the dopamine grew with every passing minute. By the time we touched the outskirts of the factory, I heard my blood rushing past my ears. We disembarked quickly, crouch-walking into position as the helo lifted off, leaving us in the stillness of the nearby forest.
“Men, I’m sure you know what we have to do,” Price crackled over the comms. “Ghost, Gaz, on the west flank. Soap, (F/N), take the main entrance. Let’s give em’ a scare, shall we?” Ghost was the one to respond, making me shiver from how close his voice was, “Oh, don’t worry, Capt. I’ll make sure of that.” For some reason, he was more talkative with a headset. That didn’t help the intimidation, it worsened it.
Splitting apart, Soap and I moved through the underbrush as silent as possible, approaching the front of the building. I tried to brush off my unease by moving my attention to the crumbling walls, full of bullet holes, evident to the possibility that they’ve been attacked before. But they were still standing. So, that could mean only one thing; they came out victorious in those battles. And we were about to kick the hornet’s nest this time to try our luck.
I brushed that off and bolted for the main entrance with him. There was a rusted metal door hanging off its hinges. I could hear distant shouts from inside—Makarov’s men, no doubt. The Scottish sergeant glanced at me, giving a nod as he walked to the other side of the door, preparing to breach alongside me.
“We’ll be blasting the doors on three, Capn’,” he whispered into his mic, hearing it twice on my end while he fastened the charge on the door. “Proceed, MacTavish,” Price affirmed. The second he did, Soap brought out the detonator. “One… two… three!”
The door blew open. Weapons up, moving as one, the sound of bullets erupted around us and we engaged the first group of hostiles. That narrow hallway filled with the deafening gunfire of automatic weapons. I couldn’t blink. My ears were ringing and my armor was being hit, but I didn’t flinch once. Not for anything. I let instinct take over and killed around five.
“Clear!” Soap shouted when the last man went down, a clear shot through his head, body hitting the floor with a dull thud just like the rest laid out around us. “Move up!”
We pushed forward, sweeping room after room, thick with gunpowder and blood. Every corner was painted with red and guts, any kind of movement was cut off. Ruthless, that’s how I’d describe it. No sympathy. Why would I have that? They made their choices. Now, they lay in the consequences of them.
Reaching the central courtyard, I caught a glimpse of Ghost and Gaz on the far side of the upper level, perched at a corridor with snipers. They already made the path for Price, who was somewhere below us, heading for Valkyrie. So, I could feel the burn of the skull-masked man’s scope on my back. Well, shit. Guess it’s time for the show to start.
More men began to pour in, their shouts growing louder as they realized we were there and getting way too close. The pressure on us was mounting, I had to ensure my breathing was stable. I can’t fuck this up.
“Price, we’re in position,” I huffed into my mic, “What’s your status?”
“Almost there,” he replied, completely calm despite the warfare going on around him, “Just keep them off me for a few more.”
I exchanged a look with Soap. A few more minutes in this hellhole felt like suicide, but there was no choice. Dipping down, I took cover behind one of the battered walls with him while Makarov’s soldiers swarmed the courtyard.
“Here they come!” Soap yelled, opening fire as the first wave hit. I joined him, the recoil of my weapon jarring my arms as we cut down the enemy. But for every one that fell, it seemed like two more took their place.
That only fueled the brutality, the kind that tested my will and stamina. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face, the burn in my muscles, fighting hard to keep the line from collapsing. No time was wasted, every bit had to be used. This is what I’m here for, what I’ve honed. The same went for MacTavish.
It was all going by so quickly. Men were dropping like flies, but I kept count in my head for bragging rights, ‘Nine, ten, where’d that black helmet guy go to? Peeking behind the truck? Make that eleven.’ Being too zoned on what was ahead of me, I didn’t have half a thought to check my back until the sound of a bullet whizzed four feet away and caused me to duck with a curse, “Shit, sniper!” But, I looked behind me and come to find out, it wasn’t a miss hit, there was a dead man lying there instead.
I started to hear erratic laughter from Soap and directed my attention to him, seeing him clutch his stomach as his eyes moved over to the building Price was in. Guiding me to the sight of that skull-masked prick with that decked out sniper of his in hand. “Ghost! Ye gave (F/N) a fricht! Gie him ah heed's up next time, eh?" He just.. saved me. Fuck, he just saved me! I was supposed to be pulling my own weight. It’s almost as if I could picture perfectly his cold, dark glare from miles away.
He let out a snarky response, something I had been anticipating since the moment we left base, “Apologies, thought he was deaf.”
The embarrassment mixed with that pure adrenaline smacked me right back into positioning my gun. I took the dig and figured out a way to joke back my recovery while reloading the mag, “Stealing a deaf man’s kill is bad taste, lieutenant. More than apologies are needed.” Then, I swiftly cocked and aimed for the enemy soldiers rushing to try and attempt the building he was on; taking only exactly two shots at the both of them, straight to the head.
I didn’t say anything else. I took a deep breath, held it, and zeroed in. Simply carried on by wiping more and more soldiers, not bothering to keep track of the number now. After about the whole mag was finished and there were bodies scattered on every corner, I paused. Because there was no one else.
My arms were numb. I know that when I rest, they’re going to be burning, but that was great. And the cherry on top was hearing Ghost grumble through the speaker, “Well done, Sergeant.”
Suddenly, Price blurted over the comms, lifting an even bigger smile on my face knowing I made the kill streak in time. “Valkyrie’s secure. We’re moving to exfil. Fall back to the rally point!”
“Copy that, Capn,” the Scot replied with a proud look toward me. He spun his direction, the grin he had splitting across his cheeks. “Time to get the hell out of here, Sergeant!”
We pulled back, covering each other as we moved through the route I had memorized down. Thanks to the extra effort, I was racing for that extraction point. The mission wasn’t finished yet, but we were close and I was glad because all of that mowing had me worn.
Finally, after skidding through multiple halls, we bursted out of the factory. The chopper waiting for us with its rotors spinning. Price was already there, what I guess was Valkyrie in tow. She had short, dark hair with a stone cold expression on her face, even as blood was seeping into the sleeve of her jacket. No reaction to pain? Seems we got a new hardass for company.
“Move, move, move!” The captain shouted, waving us aboard and smacking backs once they clambered in.
I was second to last to pile into the helo, almost everyone I could see was breathless, bruised but gratefully, alive. And without a minute wasted, the bird lifted off. Drifting my chin down at the factory, now just a smoldering ruin, I let out a deep breath to calm myself and relax.
Another success, a possible promotion, and a rescued soldier. Things are seeming great so far. But as I looked around at the team, energy still coursing through my veins, I met eyes with the living reminder of why I shouldn’t celebrate; keeping that glare of his directly on me. What’s he so pissed about? That I’m getting better? It’s beginning to feel like no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough to satisfy him. Eh, why am I caring about his opinion? I know my achievements.
For now, I’ll close my eyes and have a small rest. I survived and eliminated half of the enemy team. That deserved some reward.
————————————
Gaz woke me up with a nudge, causing me to jolt up and blink rapidly as he chuckled at me. "Have a good nap?" he asked, the amusement on his face unmistakable even in the dim light. I grunted a yes, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and squinting to get adjusted to the darkness. Damn, it’s already nighttime? The helicopter’s dull hum buzzed underneath my feet while I stumbled up from my seat, hoisting my gun alongside me. I proceeded to follow Gaz out, following the others to head inside base.
Valkyrie was immediately whisked away to medical with Price, who decided to keep watch on her as they headed off to treat her arm. The rest of us: Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and myself, continued toward the entrance. Soap, as usual, wasn’t tired in the slightest. Rather, he started to rave about how I “obliterated those Russians” earlier. “Mate, I could barely lock onto a guy before I saw their brains flying!” he exclaimed, clearly trying to boost my ego. I chuckled, playing it cool despite the fact that the compliments were making me a little warm in the face.
Gaz joined in, laughing at Soap’s retelling, and tossed in his own praise. “Gotta admit, that is impressive, (F/N),” he said, briefly patting my shoulder. Meanwhile, Ghost stayed silent, walking ahead without looking back. Not that I expected anything different. Really, I was more surprised he hadn’t told us to quit the shit yet.
After the little appreciation party, Soap suggested we hit up a pub to round off the night, boasting about some place nearby that he claimed was perfect for the occasion. Gaz agreed, though he couldn’t resist throwing in a jab. “You sure you’re up for it? Considering you passed out in the helo and all,” he teased.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Garrick. You know a marine is always good to go for a drink.”
That’s when the attention turned to Ghost for an answer. He glanced at each of us, those devoid eyes lingering on me longer than needed. For a second, I thought he was going to pass it up to disapprove my point, but then he nodded and muttered, “I’m in.” Before excusing himself to get ready.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Soap smirked and punched me in the shoulder. “He’s got it out for you, mate. Must’ve been those two kills you snagged earlier.”
Gaz looked curious. “What’s that about?” And a part of me wished that Ghost had stayed so he kept his pie-hole shut.
I didn’t wait to hear Soap spill the details, instead, I decided it was the perfect time to slip away and get dressed in civvies. Whatever that conversation was about to turn into was going to be a bunch of dramatic nonsense. Blather. Exactly what he admitted to doing previously.
Heading to my room, I already mentally picked out something to wear. Navy blue jeans with a simple black sweatshirt, black combat boots for shoes. A little nice outfit, casual. I picked up the pace, jogging toward my room the second I saw the door. I’m going to get this night done and over with, so I can collapse in my bed and have the best sleep of the month afterward.
Once we were all dressed up and ready to go, Gaz offered to be the designated driver, so we met up, hopped into his car, and headed for the pub. And would’ve known that Soap was right about his bars? It was exactly what we needed after the mission—dimly lit, packed just enough to be lively but not overwhelming, and the smell of greasy food and spilled beer wasn’t half as bad as the ones I’ve been in. There was that worn-in feel to it that screamed “local favorite,” with old framed baseball posters on the wooden walls and a jukebox in the corner playing classic rock. Not too bad.
Of course, we grabbed a booth near the back, away from the main crowd, and the first round of drinks was on Soap, insisting on ordering the strongest drink of the menu. “To celebrate 141’s glorious victory against the Russian dickheads!” he declared, raising his glass. Everyone followed suit, clinking our drinks together proudly with enthusiastic laughter, excluding Ghost. He just chuckled.
As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely. Soap kept the conversation rolling, recounting stories with his usual attitude, each one more exaggerated than the last. Gaz chipped in with his perspective on them every so often, and before long, I was the most entertained I had ever been since joining the military. Although, the buzz from the alcohol did help by making everything seem a little brighter, less boring.
Ghost, true to form, stayed mostly silent, sipping his whiskey while keeping an eye on the room. But every now and then, I caught him glancing at me with that forever intimidating gaze of his, like he was trying to figure something out. It was unnerving, but the whiskey in my system made it easier for me to ignore him. Never lessened my curiosity, however.
Eventually, the Scot started digging for dirt. It never would’ve been a complete outing with him if he didn’t. “Alright, lads, time for some juicy stuff,” Soap said, rubbing his palms together as if he was an evil villain from a cartoon. He kicked things off by asking Gaz about his worst embarrassing moment on a mission, which had us all in stitches when Gaz reluctantly confessed to tripping and face-planting in the mud during a particularly op with Price. It’s a secret that the captain holds to this day apparently. Not anymore.
Then, granted, Soap turned his attention to me. “So, (F/N), what’s the deal? Any embarrassing moments you’ve been hiding from us? Or maybe something about your love life? Haven’t heard a peep about that,”
I rolled my eyes but played along, sharing a few harmless details on shitty moves I’ve done or the awkward make-outs I had when I was younger, trying my best to keep it light. But Soap wasn’t satisfied. “Come on, there’s gotta be something good! What about you and Ghost? You two be exchangin’ them ‘fuck me’ eyes.”
That comment made me choke on my drink. But, I recovered quickly, laughing it off while looking at the man like he was crazy. When I could feel Ghost’s eyes on me, that intense stare again, like he was waiting; I fell silent. He wasn’t laughing. Why wasn’t he laughing?
After one too long of a minute passed, he finally broke the silence, “You lot talk too much,” before downing his drink in one gulp. There was a hint of something in his voice, maybe amusement, maybe something else. I hate that it was extremely hard to put a finger on him. No one had any idea what the man was thinking a hundred percent of the time.
He stood up, tossing some cash on the table for the next round aggressively, sliding his way out of the booth while grunting out, “I’m getting another drink.”
As Ghost walked away, Soap bumped elbows with me, cocking a brow. “I think the big guy actually likes you. Never seen him react like that.” Huh? Seemed the opposite.
I shook my head, not entirely sure what to make of that. “Yeah, well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”
At some point, Ghost returned to the table with his second drink, settling back into his seat with the same quiet demeanor. The rest of us were well on our way to being hammered, especially Soap, who was starting to get loud and a bit more slow-mannered with every sip.
He began ranting about his past relationships, each one apparently worse than the last, all nag and no fun as he described. “Lassies, mate. They’re a puzzle I’ll never figure out,” he slurred, waving his glass around for emphasis. “Why do they always say one thing and mean another? Drives me bloody mad!” Hearing this when I’ve had a recent break-up is a little ironic. Glad I’m out of that nightmare. Put all of my focus into this. Military life.
Another round of drinks arrived, the mood at the table grew even looser, and I couldn’t help but notice that Ghost kept stealing looks my way. Every time I caught him, I raised a brow, silently asking, ‘What’s your deal?’ Did he want to ask me something? Maybe chew me out for almost getting compromised earlier? I expected him to say something when I gesture, but he didn’t say a word, just kept sipping his drink. Why’s he acting like this? It’s confusing. He never held back saying a blunt sentence or two.
Soap’s rambling had eventually turned to Ghost himself, something I had been anticipating, “And what about you, big guy? Had any recent flings, or are you still too married to the job?” Seems the alcohol is hitting hard because that’s a bold thing to ask. Even for him.
The skull-masked man seemed caught off guard by the question, blankly blinking at him a couple of times before he answered, his voice slightly slurred and raspy. “Nah, haven’t had any… relationships for a while. Not really my thing. I keep it… simple.” His eyes avoided mine as he said it, and something about the way he spoke made me wonder what was really going on in that head of his. He was vague about everything and that made me want to figure him out even more.
Never one to let things drop, Soap tried to pry for more. “Simple, huh? What’s that mean exactly?”
Ghost didn’t bother replying. Instead, he got up, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He then looked directly at me and, out of nowhere, he ignored him and bluntly asked me, “Want a smoke?”
Huh?
Before Soap could butt in, probably to complain about not being invited, Ghost shut him down with a quick, “You’re too pissed to walk straight. I’m not babysitting.” Then, his shadowed, brown eyes flicked back to me expectantly and I nodded slowly, a wave of nervousness settling in as I grabbed my newly refilled glass and shuffled out of the booth. Fuck, I was getting my answer alright. Here we go.
I walked behind him, unable to shake the worry that had crept up on me. What’s he going to start with? Why now of all places? The night air slapped my face as we stepped outside, cold enough to give me a little smidge of a sober thought. I observed him while he lit his cigarette methodically, like he was trying to keep control of himself. You could tell he was a veteran soldier from miles away, just by the stance alone.
Standing there, I waited for him to say something, anything, that would clue me in on what this was about. However, he just took a drag, exhaling slowly, the smoke curling up into the deep blue sky. The silence between us deafening, but my gut was screaming at me that this wasn’t random. I was going to hear a lecture soon, whether I redeemed myself or not.
A few more minutes went by and I looked out across the street, shoving my hands into my pockets while thinking to myself about what I should say or ask. Ghost took another drag, his stare skimming over to me, clearly weighing it out in his mind too.
Finally, he broke the silence. “You got your own pack?” he asked roughly, gesturing to the fact I hadn’t started smoking. What? Is he serious? That’s really the reason he pulled me out here for?
“Nah,” I staggered in my reply, shaking my head. “Haven’t smoked in a couple of months. My ex knocked me out of the habit. She hated the smell, couldn’t stand it.”
At that, Ghost’s expression shifted, a flicker of something resembling annoyance crossing his eyes. Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette from his. He handed it over to me, his voice barely above a murmur as he said, “That’s bullshit. You earned it.”
There was something about the way he said it, like the idea of me giving up smoking for someone else genuinely bothered him. It caught me off guard, but I didn’t hesitate. I put the filter between my lips, feeling that familiar weight in my mouth and the anticipation of a hit of nicotine that I had missed dearly.
He stepped closer and leaned down, bringing the lighter to the end of my cig, the sound of the click bringing back memories. Time seemed to slow down then. The flame illuminated his face to where I could see the wrinkles of his eye bags and the fading black face paint around them. As well as the scars that littered around his cracked lips and the stubble freshly growing around them. He was a looker and how close we were made my skin prickle with a feeling I couldn’t quite name. He could snap my neck right now if he wanted, if I had pissed him off enough, and no one would know a thing. For some reason, that made me a little thrilled..?
I matched his pace, barely pulling smoke in and staring at the abyss of his pupils. When a cloud filled my lungs and a dizzy sensation washed over me, I exhaled softly, letting out a contented sigh. “Damn,” Muttering, I licked over my lips and pinched the cigarette off of them. “I missed this. Thanks, man.”
Ghost just nodded, moving back to where he was, his eyes still not leaving mine. That strange tension between us flared and changed direction now, confusing me on what the hell was going on. I could tell by the way he watched me, by the way he began glancing down at my lips, that my idea of him was the furthest it could be. Holy shit, he was flirting. My stomach did a flip at the realization. No, he couldn’t be fucking thinking like that, right? Not to a man, let alone, me. But, I had to be sure.
“So,” I choked on my words, clearing my throat to play it off as buildup from the smoke when in actuality, I was freaking out. “Why’d you bring me out here, Ghost? What’s going on?”
Taking another drag, his gaze finally dropped to the ground for the first time since we’ve been out here. He seemed to be considering his answer carefully, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that, causing my nerves to act up. This can’t be real, this has to be a stupid joke or prank.
But, Ghost took his time, dragging out the silence between us as if he was reluctant to speak and staying fixed on the ground; cigarette burning between his fingers. Then, after a couple, he looked back up at me, and there was something different in his expression. Vulnerability. What the fuck is happening?
“You ever feel like you’re not sure what the hell you’re doing?” he asked, his voice low, no longer booming nor straightforward. “Like you’re making decisions that don’t make sense, even to yourself?”
That question knocked me out of my overthinking. I expected something blunt—maybe a comment on how stupid I looked and that he was here for one thing, smoking. Some sign of a trick. But this? It was like he was laying a piece of himself bare, something he didn’t often do, if ever. This was serious, not a laughing matter.
I didn’t say anything right away, I was busy trying to figure out what to do about it, but I knew I had to so I pushed through. “Yeah,” I shakily said, unable to hide that I was picking up on his hints, “I think everyone’s been there. But I get the feeling this isn’t just about the job, is it?”
Ghost took a deep drag, holding it in before letting it out in a slow, controlled breath. “It’s not,” he mumbled and it felt like my heart stopped. “Bringing you out… hell, I’m not even sure why I did it. Maybe I just needed to clear my head with company. Maybe… I just wanted to be alone with you.”
What he explained nailed the coffin and now, it started to sink in. He just admitted to wanting to be alone with me, and the thought made my throat tighten. That tension I’d been picking up from him wasn’t anger. It was admiration.
How the hell do I process this? What do I even think about this?
“Ghost…” I started despite not knowing what to say, but he cut me off with a slight shake of his head.
He firmly spoke, regaining some of his usual composure, “Don’t. I’m not asking for anything. I only… wanted you to know. Decided that you should.”
Stubbing out his cigarette on the concrete, he crushed it under his boot before stepping back, putting a bit more distance between us. “Let’s just finish the night, yeah? No more heavy talk. I’m not lookin’ for trouble.” Wait, what? That’s not fair.
Without a second to spare, I grabbed his wrist, my hand wrapping around the thick leather of his glove. It was an impulsive move, one I hadn’t fully thought through, but the command spilled out before I could stop myself.
“No, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving without pleading your case on what the fuck that means, Ghost,” I growled, my cig hanging from the corner of my mouth loosely as I pulled him back, “You’re giving me way too many mixed signals for me to simply shrug off. Handle your issues with me right now, so I don’t have to deal with the constant aftermath of your bottled-up hurt later.”
The Brit didn’t turn around, just stood there, his back to me, shoulders stiff. A part of me was panicking on why I was doing this, but I still didn’t let go. I couldn’t, it didn’t feel right. My heart was racing, pounding in my chest so hard I could hear it in my ears while anticipation and mainly fear of what he’ll say plagued my head. Seriously, why do I care this much? Why am I putting up a fight?
When Ghost finally forced himself to face me, his eyes were back to being unreadable, the mask hiding most of his expression. But there was something in the way he looked at me, something that felt raw, desperate, and it made my grip tighten involuntarily.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, voice strained and rough. “That I’ve got my head twisted over you? That I would compromise my own fuckin’ mission cause I can’t take my scope off you? How you’re the last thing in my mental every night and every morning?” He continued to shake his head, as if the words were foreign to him, something he wasn’t used to saying out loud, even to himself. “I’m not good for this, (F/N). I’ve never been good at… whatever the hell this is and I wish to keep it that way.”
His last sentence hit me like a punch to the gut, my cigarette nearly falling from my lips. Why did hearing that put a heavy weight on my shoulders? He sounded so damn… heartbroken. I kept hold of his wrist, my mind racing to understand where I stood, what I was feeling toward his confession, and the more I processed it; the more I was sure I felt the same. All that he was describing, all of that I had done too.
“I can’t…” Ghost trailed off, the words seeming to fail him. “I didn’t want to drag you into whatever fuckery this is. But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”
That’s a question he already knew the answer to. We both did. This wasn’t something that I could ignore, not after everything that had been said and done now. I felt my grip on his wrist relax, but I still didn’t let go, not yet.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ghost,” I stated firmly, knowing I would’t forgive myself if I let him slip. “But I’m not letting you leave this unfinished. Not without you asking me how I fucking feel about shit for once.”
For a moment, I expected him to pull away and ignore me, use the ‘I’m your superior’ card, but instead, he brought me closer. His free hand reached up and lightly brushed past my jaw to the cigarette in my mouth, plucking it out and throwing it on the ground to crush it. I let him, leaning into his touch as those coffee brown eyes delved into mine, something I won’t get used to.
Then, he whispered exactly what I needed to hear, an odd, overwhelming sense of caring coming from him, “What do you feel, sergeant?”
“That I want to know all there is to know about you, lieutenant,” I grumbled, unconsciously leaning forward. I wanted to say more, to dive headfirst into him, but I wasn’t sure how. The military didn’t exactly prepare me for… this. It discouraged it, heavily.
Ghost mused, tilting his head to the side while squinting, “Yeah?” Fuck, why did he have to look that appealing when doing that? He glanced away for a brief moment, like he was considering how much more to reveal, then looked back at me with a sureness that made my pulse quicken again. “I haven’t got a clue on how to deal with relationships, (F/N). I’m also not agreeing that it’s a good idea. But… if you’re in, I’ll try to figure it out. With you.”
It wasn’t a confession of love or anything, but coming from Ghost, it might as well have been. The man was as emotionally closed off as they came, and here he was, accommodating me on the possibility of a relationship, giving me an offer that felt dangerously close to hope. And I’m not complaining.
I let out a sigh, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that had been building up since we stepped outside by regulating my breathing. “I’m in,” I nodded, more sure of that than anything else. “But we do this together. No more one-sided, no more taking out frustration. You’ve got to be straight with me, even if it’s messy. I don’t like dealing with bullshit, so don’t be a bullshitter.”
He nodded, his posture relaxing from being tense, like that had added weight to his body just as much as it had for me, “Deal. Won’t spew shit, got it.”
For a moment, neither of us moved, both caught in the realization of what had been agreed upon. This was a strange feeling, but for the first time in a long time, I looked forward to what my love life could bring, especially this being my first go with a man. Christ, wait a minute, what do I tell my family? Should I tell them? I do not want to think about that right now.
I chuckled awkwardly, glancing back and forth between him and the front entrance of the pub, “So, what now? We head back inside?”
The corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk as he reached up to fix his mask, muffling out his response, “I’ve got plenty ideas of what we can do. For now, I say everyone should head back to base. It’s near time.”
————————————
I found out what he meant by ideas not long after when he got me in the darkness of my room, smashed right in between a corner and him, the smell of whiskey drifting between the two of us. He didn’t take a second to go for a kiss once we were alone. The feel of his lips, desperate against mine, wiped out any coherent thought I could have. I had never wanted to do this so badly before. Yet, I couldn’t get enough of him.
His hands were everywhere, fingers digging into my skin like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. The wall behind me was cold, fighting with the heat of his chest pushing into mine. I could taste the bitter alcohol lingering on his tongue—a flavor I won’t forget now. I want to engrave it into my memory.
At some point, I tried to push back for some oxygen and to figure out where the hell this was going. But he was relentless, pinning me down to crash himself back into me. He was so fucking demanding and obsessive with it that something in me had just snapped. I began to match his actions, the confusion melting away and replacing with an uncontrollable amount of lust. If he kept this up, I was going to lose myself.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands at first—grabbing his shoulders, his neck, anything to ready myself against his onslaught. Ghost, on the other hand, knew what he wanted. He roamed my bare skin underneath my shirt, palms and fingers rough and calloused. Pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss, as if he was trying to make up for missed affection.
Eventually, he had to back away for air, panting heavily; his face barely inches from mine. I still couldn’t see much in the pitch black, but the moon brought a little brightness into the room. So, I got a pretty vivid picture despite how faint the light was and fuck, he was more handsome than I could have imagined.
His voice was stuck at that perfect gravelly tone and I could tell he was deep in shit by it, more so when his breath fanned over my lips. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, but it didn’t sound like he regretted a damn thing. It sounded cynical and sarcastic. At least that confirms his personality wasn’t an act.
While I reeled and tried my best to catch my breath, wondering if this was happening or if I’d just drunkenly stumbled into some crazy dream. “What… what the hell was that, Ghost?” I managed to gasp out, my head spinning from the biggest rush of dopamine I’ve had.
He didn’t answer right away, only hovered there, his forehead resting against mine with the uneven sound of his breathing. “I don’t know,” he grunted after a long moment, like he was frustrated, scrunching up my collar with a fist, “But I needed it.. needed you. And I need more.”
My eyes widened at the way he was talking. There was no saving me from sinning after that. I knew both of our judgment was cloudy and the liquor was probably influencing us to get this far, but those feelings were getting to me, they also scared the hell out of me. From how every bit of contact he gave, thousands of little shocks ran through my body, and how restless I got because of it. I wasn’t going to get any shut-eye tonight. Oh, and there’s a hard-on pressing through my jeans currently.
“Then don’t apologize,” I said, wanting this too much to care about repercussions. Even though I could barely see him, I knew he was watching me, waiting for anything I said that gave him the go. “Just… don’t fucking stop. Please.”
Ghost let out a shaky breath, and in that tiny pause, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Until he leaned in again, slower, and I witnessed the immediate change in his demeanor. “It’s Simon, love,” he huskily replied, lips brushed against mine, and the kiss that followed was different. Still intense, still hungry, but almost tentative while his hands went from gripping the top of my shirt to tugging the edge; lifting slightly.
I wrapped my arms around him, pulled him in, and returned the kiss back with everything I had. Groaning at the sensation of him biting at my bottom lip. He got impatient so he pried at the cloth, tearing it in half before I could react. “Jesus Christ, Simon..!” I shouted, the sudden aggression shocking me, but also giving a satisfied shiver up my spine.
The tall man chuckled, digging his leathered, gloved fingers into my hips until they felt bruised, “Keep that up, Sergeant… I hate being polite. I’d rather make you listen, so if you put up a fight, I’m letting you know that ahead of time. I will fuck you over like I’ve done time and time again.” Holy shit. I hadn’t ever been talked to like this and I was beginning to realize how much I like it.
He drifted his grip toward the lower parts of my ass, lifting me up the minute he got ahold of me, and threw me directly onto my bed. The frame squeaked under the pressure and from this angle, I had the whole display. His hands were unhooking his belt, the clinks of metal falling to the floor and his button being undone making my heartbeat irregular. I wish I could see him better. Maybe…
Looking over to the lamp on my nightstand, I huffed, thinking hard about it before proposing hurriedly, “Can I turn on the light? If we’re doing this...” Simon had barely got to pulling his pants down when he heard me, making him pause as they sinked to his knees. He cocked his head before I watched him lean forward and tug at the switch, the room immediately lighting up in every corner. So did he. Yup, there‘s no lying about it, he’s fucking jaw-dropping.
Dirty blonde hair adorned his head, swept into a comb-over while those dark, distant blue eyes I knew too well had bags carved underneath them from lack of sleep. His nose was shaped like a Roman’s, his lips lightly moisturized from our spit, cupid’s bow defined enough that it was hard to resist another peck. Scattered scars split from the top right of his upper lip to his lower jaw along with multiple slashes around both of his cheeks. He’s been in war for a long, long time. It was written all over his face and I couldn’t help but stare.
“Likin’ the view?” Simon laughed, baffling me more by simply seeing the amused look on him. Yet, I still wasn’t ready for when he began taking off his own shirt, tossing it to the floor. I swallowed nervously. Why was this making my brain short circuit? Damn, I was really enjoying this. Trying to calm myself, I muttered the first thing in mind, “Yeah, I’m pissed that I didn’t get to see you like this sooner.”
He shot a questioning look while switching his focus back to kicking his pants off and the moment I followed downward, I sucked in a breath. God Almighty, the man is blessed. Not only is he huge in terms of height/muscle, but he’s packing nine inches at best based on the bulge in his boxer briefs alone.
“That so?” he asked, pinching the waistband once he noticed I was staring and pulling them down, agonizingly slow. “Flatterin’ that you want me that bad, but there’s no need to get upset. I’ll be givin’ plenty of visits like these.” I can’t be the only one being teased here. I have to get my revenge. Especially if I want to figure out what he meant. Come on.
So, I tugged at the bedsheets and slid off of the edge, dropping to the floor on my knees, right in front of him. He stopped, keeping still as he tilted his head like he was asking, ‘What’re you doin’?’ I answered before he could speak, “For someone that’s supposed to be fucking me over, it really seems I’m doing a number on you instead.”
A small half-smirk came across his lips and he placed a palm on me, dragging his fingers through my hair to push my chin up. “This desperate to get your mouth stuffed and tryin’ to prove a point? Pretty boy, I think you’ve become lost,” Simon cooed, grabbing my arm and guiding it to the hem of his underwear. “If you want to be cheeky, show me some real aggression, (F/N).” Oh, smooth bastard.
Without hesitation, I pinched both sides of his boxers and shoved them down. His dick sprung out and hit my cheek, smearing pre-cum. I wrapped my hand around the middle of the base, squeezing lightly, getting a feel for how hard he was. Stiffer than a boulder and fit perfectly. Might start believing this is fate. He grunted, tightening his grip while I huffed, “Mm, I’m lost? Last I checked, you couldn’t keep yourself from kissing me.”
The dirty blonde got impatient at that comment and pulled me to where his tip could rest on my mouth, rubbing his arousal around my lips like it was chapstick before forcefully pushing it in. He groaned, rasping out, “Can’t be lost if I know what I want.” The salty flavor of him unfurled on my tongue and my spit covered the first few inches of his cock from how much I had been drooling. I don’t know if it was because I was this turned on or if he just took care of himself really well, but he tasted so fucking good. So good that I opened my mouth wide and attempted to sink the rest down.
When I barely reached the bottom, he hit the back of my throat, choking me up. I instinctively went to pull away, but Simon held me there and added his other hand to ensure I couldn’t escape. Leaving me to gasp for air through my nose and glare at him with panicked eyes. Though, I love the roughness. I wanted more of it.
He granted my wish as he dragged me by my hair, my back meeting with the edge of the bed while I watched him raise his leg to place a foot there. Using the angle, he managed to bury himself completely, going deep into my esophagus. He let out a low moan in satisfaction, grumbling, “That’s it, hard parts over… Fuck, you’re doin’ great… Now, bob that little head, come on.”
His guidance had me buckled. There was no more fighting I could do, especially with my senses overwhelmed to a point where I could only focus on sucking. I did as he said, slowly gliding my lips back and forth, pressing them down near the thicker parts.
Simon growled, breathing loud and irregular, so that made me look up. He was towering over me, drilling holes into my head from how hard he stared. Eyes half-lidded, brows knitted together, canines showing with defined muscle to go with; he looked like he was holding himself back. I knew what that meant. If I didn’t go faster soon, he’d probably force me to. Sounds fun. I might be a masochist.
Suddenly, I relaxed myself and pushed up to deep-throat him again, holding my breath to have his dick just sit there as I kept eye contact the entire time. I can feel every twitch, every outline of his veins, specifically the ones pressed against my tongue. He scrunched his nose at me, seductively chuckling, smirk getting wide, “Enjoyin’ that full feelin’, yeah? Tryin’ to suffocate yourself on it? That’s my good soldier. Gettin’ all cock drunk.”
I hummed, the grit in his voice putting me in a daze and the vulgar language causing my own to want to be free from my pants. ‘My,’ he called me his. As if he read my mind, his hips reared away before he thrusted in aggressively. Picking up to the pace he wanted, light slaps came from his skin meeting my lips, bouncing off the walls. Then, slurps followed. I hollowed out my cheeks, adapting as best as I could.
Laying limp, I watched him fuck my mouth, closing my eyes on each impact, and getting a breath in whenever he pulled back. A ring of saliva built up around his base, dripping down my chin and leaving droplets on my chest. The bruising feeling forming in my throat had me moaning on him, muffling and interrupting my noises.
He didn’t falter once. No, he was ruthless and I loved him for it. I didn’t like to admit it in the past, but the moments he was harsh, I used as fuel. It motivated me, pushed me to do things I never thought I could do, and now, I was finally good for him. I was finding the right button that I needed to push in order to make the lieutenant satisfied.
“Fuck, takin’ me so well.. No complaints or nothin’… You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Simon purred, slowing a bit to let me breathe, but continuing nonetheless. I mumbled an ‘Mhm’, grateful that he was allowing me a break. However, I didn’t want one. I was doing more than fine. So, I started moving fast myself, grabbing his hips to help me gain momentum.
Sucking a breath through his teeth, he dropped his head and let out a guttural moan, returning back to the same speed while sputtering, “Bloody hell, keep doin’ that and I’ll give you a fuckin’ dessert, alright…”
As soon as I heard him utter, I had to relieve my own pent up need, shoving down my pants and boxers to my knees; wrapping my hand around my dick to jerk off to the sight. He peered over at what I was doing, getting sloppier and sloppier with his thrusts by the minute. That close, huh? I got a good idea on how to bring him to that end.
Utilizing the hand I didn’t have occupied, I cupped his balls, massaging them while increasing in pace. I was seeing blurs from how quick I was, but I knew he was losing it due to the loud groans that escaped him. “Shit, Christ, (F/N)!” Simon whispered, yet it still sounded like a yell. His muscles tensing as they wrapped around me, holding me so he could blow his load deep enough. All I could do was swallow and feel the liquid coat my throat, moaning along.
Once he finished, I pulled away, carefully sucking to ensure that I got everything. Then, prying my mouth off with a pop. I wiped my mouth and stumbled onto my feet to collapse onto the bed. Voice hoarse, I said, “Taste like my new favorite drug...” Giving him a drunk smile, my dick laid out against my stomach, in hand. I no longer cared anymore, I just dragged my gaze and got myself off to him. “My turn.”
Simon’s jaw clenched as he watched, hands curling into fists before he rushed at me, slamming my back onto my mattress while climbing on top. Both of his arms pinned mine flat on either side, his knees digging underneath my legs to pry them apart, pants shifting to my ankles.
My breathing went rapid. I looked up at him with wide eyes, that lack of emotion in his, exactly how they are during missions except now I had the face to go with. That made the intimidation so much worse. Not to mention, the man was twice the size of me. I couldn’t antagonize him like this. But I wanted to. I wanted to test it, to fully experience what he could do. So, I did, and that was the dumbest mistake I made.
“Damn, you’re that desperate for more? Gotta get a second load-“ I started, yet couldn’t finish because his hand shot for my throat. A strangled whine wheezed past my lips and I clawed at his wrist frantically, feeling him squeeze even harder as he leaned in to murmur, “Had to prove me wrong on my praise, huh, (F/N)?”
I couldn’t have a second to think before Simon snaked his other hand down past my stomach to wrap around my shaft, pumping in a fast pace automatically. My hips jutted up at the relief I was experiencing, pleasure hitting me like a bullet from how touch-starved I am. But, I couldn’t voice it, broken moans cracked out instead of words, and the rush of chemicals in my brain made me completely focus on the feeling.
He snickered at my reaction, placing his forehead onto mine, letting me see that sadistic nature I was familiar with, “I’m the one who gets you off. I’ll be the one fuckin’ you so hard you squirm, alright?” This was what I waiting for, this was the man I remember. I nodded frantically, begging to breathe, coughing for air by the time he finally let go. Satisfied with that answer it seemed, he shuffled closer and lowered his cock directly into the same hand he was using on me. Then, thrusted to cause friction.
I cried out, unable to stop myself as I glanced down to watch the sight, “God…! Holy shit, holy shit! How does that feel… so..!” Once again, I got interrupted, but this time; it was because I was at a loss for words. His thumb rolled over my tip, rubbing in circles, and I lost it. My back dug into the mattress and my groans peaked in pitch, louder than the growls he made. Close. Embarrassingly close.
“Fuck, Simon! I’m gonna,” a whimper slipped and I slightly wrapped my legs around his, arching my back while he stopped grinding. Instead, he switched to jerking me off, leaning back a little, angling my dick onto his tip. When I understood what he wanted, it sent me past the edge. My cum bursted all over his hands and shaft, spurting three loads until his lower half was almost covered in it. He milked as much as he could out of me, non-stop stroking.
Drooling, I stared half-lidded at the dirty blonde once he pulled away, moving my eyes down to see the mess I made only to realize the true situation. He wasn’t just trying to have me do it on him, he was using my jizz as lube. Before I could have another thought, he aligned his cock with my hole and coated the rim. I panicked inside, but I was too lust-ridden to stop. This was my first time doing anal, yet I wanted to do it if it meant it was with him and the idea that he was using my cum just made it way hotter to me. So, I encouraged him rather than deny, “Don’t make me wait, Riley, fuck me already!”
His face hardened, eyebrows furrowing, and without a chance to prepare; he started pushing the tip inside. “That’s Lieutenant Riley to you, Sergeant,” Simon grumbled, not hesitating to burrow more inches, sliding effortlessly because of how much cum there was. I groaned at the uncomfortable fullness, but it wasn’t as hurtful as I thought it would be. I assumed that was the case until he started to put every bit of him in.
I shouted impulsively, latching my arms around his neck and digging my nails into the dips of his back, “Lieutenant, wait a minute, that’s too fucking… big!” He slapped a hand over my mouth and shoved me back on the pillows, whispering, “Want someone to find us? You got yourself into this situation, (F/N). So, bite your tongue and deal with the consequences of being foul-mouthed, yeah?”
My eyes narrowed, sweat building up on my forehead from the pressure he was putting on my body. It was hard to not bite him as a retort. There was no time to though before he cocked his hips back and slammed them down. Then, he repeated. Over and over. Fucking me so hard that the bed sounded like it was going to give out. I screamed, but I was muffled by his palm. He was the only one that could hear me. Fuck, this was what I’ve been missing. Something unpredictable, something I had no power to stop even as I’m overstimulated beyond measure.
Writhing, I tried to clutch onto him again and he denied me the privilege; collecting both of my arms swiftly and holding them up in one hand. “Ah-ah, bad behavior.. earns bad rewards,” he said, voice wavering every ram. “Keep quiet without my help and I just might.. think about it.” Was he testing me? I can’t be silent when my stomach is being arranged, asshole.
Simon let go of my mouth as promised, causing me to hold my breath so sounds wouldn’t spill. But, that did absolutely nothing. Breathy groans continued to wheeze past my lips, forced out by the heavy impact of his waist meeting my ass. I couldn’t help it, I whined, my brain melting into mush, the pleasure overtaking the pain, “I can’t..! I can’t- keep- holy shit! nnnGhost!”
The dark-eyed man observed me losing my sanity underneath him with a sinister grin, reaching for my neck. However, he didn’t hesitate, his grip nearly crushing my airway as he wrapped his other arm around my back. And while he was still inside of me, he dragged me into a sitting position, right on top of his lap. Not before prying my pants off of my ankles first so I could sit comfortably. At least he cared in some way.
Switching from holding my wrists to gripping my left ass cheek, Simon made me bounce on him at a slower pace, animalistic noises rumbling from his chest, “You love the feelin’, don’t you? I can see that euphoric look of those (E/C) gems… Too sensitive, but you’re gonna cum no matter that… Right, sergeant?” My jaw went slack when the tip of his cock jabbed into a spot that sent shockwaves throughout my entire body.
He was right, I was above the clouds, and any response I had was being knocked out of me. I clawed at his shoulders, trying to clasp onto anything that would let me vent the slightest bit, staring at him with pleading eyes. The corners of my vision were fading into black. I needed air badly. But somehow, that limitation made the swollen knot in my guts twist and turn. My dick still just as hard as before, if not, more. How the fuck am I this close already? I tensed, attempting to hold myself back, squeaking out a desperate whimper. That encouraged him.
“Almost there, yeah? Bout to finish twice and I’ve barely started… How unfortunate,” he said sarcastically. Finally letting go of my throat and allowing me to breathe, I heaved and fell into him; dropping my head onto his shoulder as Simon focused his full attention on getting me to my end. He abused that sweet spot inside non-stop, precisely hitting deeper each time, making me crazed.
I shredded his upper back with my chewed-up nails, holding him tight and taking in his smell. It was intoxicating. Musky, bittersweet, and a hint of tobacco from the cigarette he smoked earlier mixed together. Burying myself into him, I engraved the scent into my memory before mumbling in a raspy voice, “Harder.. Don’t go.. easy.. on me, Simon..” A smirk crossed my face as I watched the man go from peaceful to enraged in a split second, the comment doing just what I wanted it to. If it’ll get him to give me his all, I’ll do it. So, I could feel the true wrath of Lieutenant Riley.
He accepted that invitation without failure because one minute I was sitting on his lap and the next I had a hand pushing my head down into the bed; my ass held up in the air by the other enough for his cock to keep burrowing inside at a more rapid speed. I bit and drooled onto the sheets, shouting pleasured cries into them as I reached my second orgasm after several rough pounds. The clear, white liquid covered most of my stomach, making a mess underneath me that I’d be bound to clean later. But, I couldn’t care less, too jumbled in the head with feeling to be able to.
My knees met and I dug my fingers into the blanket, matching the hard grip that Simon had bruised my hips and neck. Everything in my system felt like it was buzzing and burning. I tried to scream but a tiny voice crack came out instead, worn from how much I had been using it. All I could do was lay there and let it happen. Say a prayer while my eyes rolled back and my brain malfunctioned, “Please.. cum.. Fuck, cum!”
Suddenly, his arm slid underneath me and wrapped around, picking me up and holding my back against his chest. I panted frantically, looking down at the stains I made until he began to fuck into me harshly again, chuckling and grunting into my ear like he lost it; so close that I felt his hot breath, “What’s that? You want me to cum? Thought you didn’t want me to go easy on you?” I rested back onto his shoulder and flickered my eyes to look into his, tearing up from the amount of pleasure pumping through me. I didn’t think he’d last this long? What do I do? Shit, he was going to do this all night if I didn’t do something.
That something was easy as can be. Begging and matching his dirty talk. “No, no..! Fuck, please! I want it…! Inside, wherever..! Please just fucking cum, Ghost..!” I rambled, slurring my speech absentmindedly while trying to maintain eye contact. Useless. They closed through every ram, but I couldn’t help that. He was going hard and fast. It was a miracle that I managed a couple of sentences in the first place when my third end was rushing at me. I never knew this could exist, that someone could make me feel this good. Yet, here he was, the man I used to avoid; forcing every bit of dopamine into my body and mind.
“There’s the obedient soldier I’ve been lookin’ for.. Just needed to fuck the competition out of you, hm?” Simon jeered, pressing his nose into mine before moving to the side for a kiss. He returned to wrapping his palm around my neck, gently squeezing and rubbing the sore spots he created, and keeping the position by sweeping an arm under my legs to hold them high. After exchanging spit for a few minutes, lips fighting to stay on each other in the middle of thrusts, he had to stop and growl, “You don’t understand how long I’ve been meanin’ to get you here, (F/N).. To break you down into a good little submissive thing, only for me to ruin..”
I raised my brows, mouth hanging open as cacophonies of curses and moans spilled from his choice of words. ‘Only for him to ruin,’ a warmth spread all over at the idea. I hadn’t felt bliss like this since my first girlfriend in high school. Even then, that was nothing compared to now. I would’ve experimented had I known. But, honestly, I’d rather have it with him, so this couldn’t have gone any more perfect. “That’s right.. You’re mine,” he cooed, drifting his fingers up to my cheeks to steady my head before demanding. “Let me hear you. Come on, who do you belong to?”
The blue-eyed man amped up his pace again, each slap from his hips rendering me dumb and confused. He had to repeat himself, shouting in frustration, “Say it!” Ramming so deep that I yelped, “Simon! I belong to Simon!” That wide grin of his stretched into the biggest smirk I’ve seen, pride exuding off of him as I came undone. Surprisingly, more cum spewed from me despite having released so much already, my legs shaking while it dripped down. I freaked out, no control in how my body flailed at this point, making him have to use his arms to lock his hold on me entirely.
It took five whole minutes of that torture for him to finally give one last thrust, senses shot. He buried every inch of his cock, dumping his load far enough to where it felt like it was reaching my stomach, slowly fucking the last bit into me. Exactly as he wanted, I was full and gone, twitching and spazzing while trying my best to come back down to earth. That was going to be difficult considering we had been going for an hour. Christ, I don’t think I’ll be able to get up tomorrow morning.
Simon gave a low groan, pulling out once he ensured all of his cum was stored inside, tossing me back onto my ruined bed. Some of it escaped from overfill and dribbled down. Usually, I’d be pissed with the mess, but right now, I was mush. Sinking into the covers, I regained my breath, deciding that I was going to rest before even thinking about moving. He chucked at my immediate collapse, placing his hands on my ass to spread it apart and see what he’d done for himself, “Look at that… Such a pretty fuckin’ mess.” Then, he moved up, pecking the crook of my neck as he mumbled sweetly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, love. I’ll bring you to my room after for some sleep. Not a chance you’re getting a good one in this.”
Barely nodding, I allowed him to pick me up into his arms once again, unable to respond but he seemed to understand what I needed anyway. Instantly, he headed for the bathroom and got me into a warm bath. Majority of it was a blur due to being tired. It took a lot out of me to stay awake. He didn’t miss a spot though, never-ending articulate. When all was done and we were dressed, he carried me throughout the entire base until we reached his room. A part of me worried about being caught, but he was unfazed like he didn’t give a single damn. Like he wanted them to see.
The moment he opened his door and set me down to walk the rest of the way, I quickly went for his bed and dragged myself into it, shimmying into his blanket and getting comfortable. Simon followed after me, sliding himself next to my back and topping it off by cuddling into me. I sighed in content, a small smile on my face as I closed my eyes, hearing faded words of appreciation from him before drifting off, “You did well, (F/N)… More than you know. Get your deserved rest. For once, I’m lookin’ forward to… our.. future.”