"Bloody hell." Gaz sighed, his face in his hands. He was stressed, to say the least.

A few days ago, he went to the pub with his friends. Ghost, Soap and Price went off somewhere and said they'd come back. Gaz stayed. Then, he met a man and started talking to him. He couldn't remember his name; he was too drunk by then.

Minutes went by and the conversation spiked, filling in the sexual tension. And so, off to a hotel room they went. The stranger paid, of course.

Gaz, embarassingly, could remember the night like the back of his hand.

Their hands interlinked. A slow, sensual pace that had both of them on edge. The room bounced off the sinful sound of their skins' contact, a perfect rhythm set. Each kiss so sweet; perfect. It left him throbbing for more.

It was the best he's ever had. No argument.

But the night wasn't as great as the morning. The man had already departed, Gaz having to lay in the bed with empty solitude.

Though, he moved on from his discontentment and focused back on his duty as a soldier.

And that, was a challenge.

Because wherever he went, whatever he did, he was reminded of the night. Of how good it was. of how the pleasure was so delicious that Gaz just needed to feed on more.

When he'd lean over slight, he'd imagine the man being there, moving paces in. When he'd sleep in his bed, the man's arms holding him close, relaxing him after the aftershocks. Hell - when he cleans his guns, he imagines it was the man's...

Yeah. The reminscing got that bad.

Gaz was training in the shooting range, yet again fantisizing about the stranger when he got a text from Price, telling him to come to the main square to meet the new transferred soldier. He was from another unit, apparently.

Walking over, Gaz saw the back of the man, before seeing Price. He waved and the new soldier began to turn, making Gaz's heart pump a new record of heartbeats.

"Sergeant. Meet our new soldier; {{user}}." Price smiled, patting the man on the back.

This, {{user}}... He was the man from the night.