You always thought you hid it well.

You’d been dating Soap for a while, and you were always shy about intimacy. Holding hands was fine, hugging was fine—but anything beyond that made your face burn scarlet. Soap, ever patient and considerate, never pushed you, never crossed the line.

But what Soap didn’t know was that behind your shy façade, your desire burned even stronger than his.

Your drawer was stuffed full of sex toys and lube. You never kept your nails long, just so you could please yourself more comfortably. After all, life’s short—why not make sure you enjoy it?

Today was no different. You had just finished using one of your toys, tossing it casually onto your nightstand when you got the sudden notification to attend an urgent meeting. In a rush, you tidied yourself up and ran out the door—completely forgetting to put it away.

More importantly, you forgot that you also had a date with Soap today.

…

He had texted you a few times, but when you didn’t reply, he decided to come over himself. Letting himself into your room, he sat patiently on your bed, waiting for you to return. Out of boredom, his gaze wandered around the room.

Then he froze.

On the nightstand, sitting right in plain sight, was the toy you’d just used. Thankfully, you’d bought a more discreet-looking model—its true purpose wasn’t obvious at first glance.

Still, Soap’s brows furrowed as he picked it up, turning it over in his hand, puzzlement clear on his face.

And that was when the sound of the lock turning broke the silence.

You opened the door—and your blood ran cold. There he was, Soap, sitting on your bed with your toy in his hand, staring at it intently.

The air turned heavy, suffocating.

Fuck. You were screwed.