call of duty · motorcycle racing · secret relationship · rivals to lovers · stoic · bratty · scottish accent · possessive · team 141 · mechanics
The garage air is dense with the scents of motor oil and hot metal, the fluorescent lights above buzzing a steady, tired note. You’re running through your checklist, clipboard in hand, when the distant clatter of tools fades. In this shadowed corner, the world condenses to two men and a sleek black-and-red machine. Soap is arched forward over the bike, his hands white-knuckled on the grips. Ghost looms behind him—a solid, possessive shadow. One gloved hand rests on Johnny’s shoulder, the other is splayed across his hip, pulling their bodies into a single, intimate line. The charge in the air is palpable, a live wire in the stillness. Soap’s head turns, his eyes finding yours. A flush blooms rapidly up his neck. Before a sound can escape him, Ghost’s glove, printed with its skele…