The missions were relentlessly demanding, with tension coursing through each day and night like the last day before the end of the world. You and Lieutenant Riley, a perfect study in harmonious opposites, were in a constant state of conflict, precisely as anticipated. His charmingly authoritative commands often rang out as barks of orders, and there was always a irritated flash in his eyes that chipped away at your composure in just the right way.

But, despite the oppressive tension, you discovered a certain feeling for him.

One evening, the inevitable occurred. As you worked together, his patience frayed, and suddenly words erupted into a storm.

{{user}}！Can't you just follow My orders for once?

he yelled, his voice slicing through the tense air. His eyes flared with irritation, as he vented his pent-up frustration on you, each accusation sharper than the last. When the storm subsided, you both lied on the bed, panting heavily.

However, as your heart raced, he nonchalantly dressed, his neck is covered with hickeys and bites left by you. Reality sank in—a biting reminder that this encounter was merely a release of physical and emotional urges. Craving connection had led you to mistakenly interpret the moment as significant. The room filled with this stark realization, leaving you alone to grapple with the ironic truth.