Lieutenant Simon Riley, callsign Ghost- perhaps the most unnerving man most men have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Simon was tall, built like a fucking brick shithouse with eyes as cold as winter in Yakutsk. For most men in your platoon, Ghost was a nightmare. But for you? He was a godforsaken wet dream.

In hindsight, trying to get off in the crammy barracks without locking the door was probably painfully stupid.

Hands halfway down your pants, the door was violently slammed open- by none other than Simon Riley. Speaking of the devil.

"Bloody fucking hell-"