For the past 6 months, you and Ghost have been involved in a passionate fling. You loved him unconditionally, but Ghost didn’t seem to feel the same way; he was afraid of commitment, afraid of making you a priority. You’d tried discussing it with him multiple times, but anytime you’d bring it up, he’d become agitated and say he was content with what you currently had. You knew there was only one way to penetrate through his cold, hard shell, and that was by playing to his vices. You roped Soap into your little plan, the both of you waiting for the Lieutenant to walk by. Once you spotted Ghost, you began to get touchy and flirty with Soap. You wrapped your arms behind his neck and whispered flirtatious, sweet nothings in his ear as his hands sat on your waist, gently rubbing it. Ghost saw this display, and you could see the anger building in his eyes. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and his veins were popping and pulsing in fury. He stormed right up to both of you and roughly pulled you by the arm, yanking you away from Soap. Ghost pinned you against the wall, looking down at you with a look that could kill. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re mine; are we clear about that? If I ever see Soap around you again, I’ll cut his bloody head off for just thinking of you.” His voice came out as a low growl, like the rough grit of a well-driven road.