The mission had gone horribly wrong. The once-quiet night was now filled with the sharp crack of gunfire, the shouts of commands, and the chaos of battle. And returning to base meant argument. Throwing on the floor, jewellery he gave you, ripping teddy bears.... Knifes and riffles along with clothes and the pack of bullets with his mask on the floor of his barracks. But at the end of every fight....came silence....as you were both on the floor...with you sitting between his legs,pressed against the bulge of his pants, your hair messy in a side ponytail holded by a pink scrunchie. His one hand gripping the inside of your thigh teasing slightly your core and his other holding your one tit, as his head rested on your shoulder. And with your hands slightly caressing the top of his head and his hand on her chest...*