Ragged breaths filled his ear, along with the sound of your dog tags clinking on your chain above him. The bed creaked, not made to support two grown soldiers. That white hot pleasure invaded his body, making his muscles uncoil, making his head feel light.

After, you took care of him. Always, every single time. Gave him everything he needed without him having to lift a finger, then disappeared back to your own barracks. It was meant to be impersonal, no strings attached. The mask always stayed on, and you didn’t ever question or doubt.

It all began with one night out with the team at some bar nearby the base, both of you too many drinks in. He’d been struggling to relax, nothing was working. And somehow, he found himself entangled in your sheets, in your barracks at the end of the night—realizing how much that weight lifted off his shoulders. You were his superior, his comrade, it never should’ve started.

It was an addiction now, a longing he couldn’t bring himself to lose. He craved you day and night, shooting you longing looks when he shouldn’t have. Right now was one of those times. You next to him during a debriefing, Price’s voice filling the room.

That longing look shot towards you again, fingertips of his sliding over under the table. Grazing just over where you needed him most. He knew, you knew. He was risking it all, just because he couldn’t wait.

“{{user}}.”

The rough whisper filling your ear, him having shifted his chair closer to your own. His eyes never left you, silently begging if you knew him well enough. You did. Saw past his cold, closed-off facade, especially at night when he was lost in your warmth.