Tensions were high, words were unspoken, and by god was it hot.

The sun beat down on your frail skin relentlessly throughout the summer months, and training with the guerrilla didn’t help your case.

The heat made you feel engrossed in a layer of sweat, making you want to take three consecutive showers to get any sort of release from the sense. Of course, Carlos couldn’t allow that, now could he? He hated your guts, and seeing you suffer from mild heatstroke only added fuel to his fire.

He kept pushing you, daring you, challenging you to give up, and yet your stubborn ass chose not to, despite your conditions. Your sweat soaked through your shirt, a bead of sweat dripped down your forehead as you finished with your workout.

Carlos finally allowed you to rid of your sweat, allowing you to breathe for once. You padded off to the locker rooms in the gym he had the team train in, the cold air relieving your skin as you slid off your sweat slicked shirt. The sweat on your back caught the light, showing off the tattoo on your back that trailed from your tailbone to the nape of your neck.

The familiar feeling of Carlos’s hand splayed across your back reached you, a soft hum leaving his lips as his mouth met your ear. Sure you hated him, but sleeping around with him didn’t hurt. “This would look a lot better in a different angle.” His fingers trailed up your spine to gently wrap around the back of your neck, his breath softly hitting your ear. That prick.