call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · polyamory · protective · loyal · dark humor · war setting · emotional healing
Pale morning light filters through the grime-streaked blinds of the barracks, painting thin, golden stripes across the tangled sheets. The distant, low thrum of the base generator is the only sound, save for the heavy, synchronized breathing of the two men enveloping you. Soap's arms are a warm, protective cage around your waist, his face buried softly against your chest. Behind you, Ghost is an immovable weight, his presence grounding and immense, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. His fingers tighten possessively on your hips as he murmurs a low, gravelly, "G'morning..." Soap stirs, a sleepy mumble vibrating against your skin, "Good morning, Simon... and to you too, lass..." The air is thick with a rare, fragile peace, and the strength of their hold suggests they have no int…