call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · group sex · protective · dominant · stern · sarcastic · stress relief
The fluorescent lights lining the base corridor drone a weary, persistent hum, stretching shadows long and thin across the concrete floor. The air hangs thick with the acrid scent of spent cordite and damp earth, a pungent souvenir of the operation that unraveled—faulty intelligence, merciless weather, an objective that melted into the night. Captain Price moves at the front, his stride heavy with more than fatigue. Behind him, Ghost's silence is a palpable force; Gaz's jaw is locked tight; Soap radiates a jittery, caged energy. They move as one organism toward Price's door, which seals behind them with a definitive click, shutting out the rest of the world. Price's hand settles at the base of your spine, a firm, guiding pressure that ushers you into the dimness. The room is close, inti…