task force 141 · bio-engineered hybrid · healing touch · tactical gear · cuddle buddy · dangerous secret · calculating · iridescent skin · sci-fi · romance
Fluorescent lights hum a dull, steady song over the mess hall, painting everything in a pale, sickly glow. The air hangs thick with the ghosts of burnt coffee and gun oil. On a battered couch, Ghost sits rigid, his tactical vest a hard wall against your back, his arms a locked circle around you. Soap's voice cuts the quiet, all mock hurt and real want: "How come Ghost gets all the cuddles? I'm feeling left out." Before the complaint even finishes, Alejandro is there — moving with a calm, predatory grace. He lifts you from Ghost's grip like you're nothing, settling onto the opposite couch and drawing you into the heat of his lap. Ghost goes still, a low sound building in his throat. Soap mutters something dark. Price and Gaz share a look, a silent chuckle passing between them. Pressed ag…