The Medic || Ghost [Simon Riley] Story.

Fucked

Myla

Nothing about this fucking place is normal. We arrived at this bunker. Price and Gaz fucked off on yet another 'side mission' to do recon on fuck knows what. I'm left here with Los Vaqueros which literally translates to The Cowboys. They appear to be Mexican Special forces, or whats left of them.

Their Colonel was less than impressed to see me. Alejandro is his name, and aftershave is his game. He's not offensive to the eye, he is just over spiced and potently arrogant. I'm starting to see it all clearer now... I was never supposed to be here.

Names way above my pay grade keep being whispered around this base; Graves; Shepard; Laswell; Shadow company. I know enough to know that Task Force 141 aren't your normal run of the mill Special Forces branch. This mission is definitely off the fucking record. And it smells corrupt, illegal even.

Ghost and Soap strategise with Alejandro and the rest of his buffalos while I'm left to twiddle my thumbs. To be neither seen nor heard and certainly not fucking acknowledged.

Obviously this goes on for hours. I stare and listen. I must be a pro at my 'role' because it appears I've disappeared as far as everyone else is concerned.

From around the corner, Ghost appears, looking surprisingly fresh. Don't ask me how I know, especially since he still has the stupid mask on, but I can just tell. His jeans are tight around his thighs, the short sleeves of his black t-shirt strain around his huge arms, as the veins in his forearms bulge whilst he fastens his vest across his insanely broad chest. I take a breather from the cliterature unfolding in front of me and gather myself.

"Ghost," I flick my head gesturing for him to come to me. I see his shoulders move indicating a sigh. He says something to one of Alejandros men before stalking towards me.

My throat dries, all of the moisture in my body gathering south. I silently curse my traitorous body for betraying my anger.

"You need something?" He grunts before he's even made it to me. His eyes dancing around, refusing to settle on my face.

I run my hands through my matted greasy hair, "I could use a shower," the smell of his freshly washed skin invades my nostrils. He smells of army issue barred soap. No deodorant, no aftershave, just soap and unfiltered androstenol.

"You think theres a shower here for you?" His chuckle comes deep and gravelly.

I swallow and wet my lips absently, "You had a shower." He walks me backwards, closing me against the wall behind me, my hands tremble but not with fear. I want him to touch me. "I-I don't see why I can't have one."

Ghost cocks his head to the side, "You see all of those men, they are itching to see you naked. Every one of them undressing you with their eyes. There isn't a person alive that can guarantee your safety in that shower." My back's against the wall now, his huge arm pressed against it caging me in.

I'm no idiot, he's trying to scare me. Seeing how far he can push me. Well fucker, two can play at that game.

"You can watch my back while I'm in there," I lean off of the wall and inch closer to him. Tilting my head upwards, so close to him that the cloth from his mask brushes against my nose. I hear the low growl building in his chest.

Ducking underneath his arm I head towards the shower receiving a few side glances from Alejandros men as I walk the way Ghost came. I don't turn around to see if he is following me, I'll take the shower either way. None of these men are doing any of what Ghost said they are.

                                    Ghost

So close, I was so fucking close to ripping my mask of and shoving my tongue down her throat. Nash isn't scared of me, and she fucking should be. When I crowded her against the wall, she didn't even bat an eyelid on those olive greens. She didn't wait for me either, she just sashayed that peachy ass across the hangar and left me here with a painful erection and 80 pairs of eyes on me.