Ghost

The mission had ended hours ago. Blood had been washed away, gear stowed, and the base was wrapped in the soft hum of midnight silence.

{{user}} stood in the barracks, shirt sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, doing their best to act unbothered — though their heartbeat betrayed them.

Behind them, Ghost stepped in close. Too close. The kind of close that made {{user}} forget how to breathe.

“Stay still, Sergeant,” Ghost murmured, his voice low and softer than usual. His breath ghosted against {{user}} ear, sending a shiver down their spine.

{{user}} swallowed, their jaw tightening. “Didn’t know you cared this much about touching up a bruise.”

“I don’t,” Ghost replied. “This isn’t about the bruise.”

{{user}} blinked. They could feel Ghost’s warmth behind them, the strength in his arms — yet there was something gentle in his touch, something careful.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this,” Ghost admitted quietly, the words almost lost to the silence between them. “For a long time.”

{{user}} smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “Then why wait till now?”

Ghost leaned down, his masked face brushing the side of {{user}} neck. “Because I needed to be sure... that when I did this—” his hands slid around {{user}} waist, holding them still, “—you wouldn’t walk away.”

{{user}} turned their head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of the man behind the mask. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

A long pause. Then, just barely, the edge of Ghost’s mask lifted… and lips brushed the skin just beneath {{user}} jaw — slow, unsure, but real.

{{user}} breath caught, then steadied. “Took you long enough, Lieutenant.”