Call of Duty Oneshots (Mostly Ghost)

nimble.

The walls of our safe house heard soft whimpers and witnessed delicate hands pressing on bare skin. Urges for a different pace or a change in pressure resulted in whispered apologies, switching to whatever had been requested.

Exposed skin, glistening with sweat, twitched when deft hands pressed where spots were more sensitive. With a white-knuckled grip, I held tightly onto the nearby table's edge for stability, for a pressure point to unleash tension onto.

Calloused fingertips tenderly coasted to quietly assess defaced art, and I somehow managed to suppress a shiver aching to ripple down my spine. A surprised yelp slipped through nervous lips as his touch roamed to dangerous territory.

"Sshh!" Ghost reminded me to squelch any sort of racket that would possibly give us away.

"Stop touching me there then," my whispered tone thick with exasperation.

I plucked a finger between my front teeth and gnawed on it as he touched me again, pleating the two severed parts of my wound together to make the needle's tip's job easier. Breathing heavily through the first stitch, I looked away so that I could focus elsewhere.

Whoever's house this was furnished it nicely. Wood that matched, light maple, and I hoped my blood didn't stain any of it when we were done. They enjoyed the color violet for their accent color, giving it that nice contrast from pale timber. Scarlet might complement the hues, too, if any were to smear.

When he pinched a little too roughly, I huffed out an"Easy!"

"Sorry, sorry," his hold eased, but there was helping the sharpness of the needle's bite. "Almost done. You're doin' great."

I bit back down on my finger, creating horizontal indents.

If only it was just from the harsh sting and not from his soft commending.

Ignoring how fingers pressed into my side, palm melding into ribs, I attentively watched the second hand of the wall clock ticking round and round, the soft clicks creating a quiet melody with our faint breaths.

"Usually when I get a girl home, it sounds a little different," Ghost teased as he threaded in another stitch in my side. His attempt to alleviate the tension was appreciated, albeit he could have waited until his agile hands were not firmly cupping any part of my anatomy.

A sarcastic laugh escaped through my lips followed by another hiss as he made the final suture, tying it off in a messy knot. Good enough, we both shrugged.

Plastering a bandage over his work, I helped hold it in place as he taped the borders. For good measure, his arms crept behind me, bringing him even closer to where our torsos almost touched, wrapping two separate bands of sticky strips around my middle. One encircled my ribs, the other at my hips.

Echoes of his arms' curvature haunted me even minutes after he scooted away to pack everything back up in the first aid kit. The hint of vascularity peeking through his nimble hands had been enough to make me blush, and now I had a taste of how tender brute force could be.

"Keep it up, and you'll have to kiss it to make it better." I needled, flattening the tape more so it wouldn't rub uncomfortably against my clothing.

I noticed the grin even beneath the mask, a glimmer of silent amusement in his brown eyes to give him away. "Don't tempt me, love."