on my birthday if i don't see ghost butt booty ass naked LATHERED in oil tied up with red ribbon and his legs spread breathing heavily and angrily glaring at me struggling against the restraints on my bed with a bottle of honey and a can of whipped cream on my nightstand i'm going to be incrediby angry.
"Got an offer for you here- one night only. Swear it'll be worth your while." And Soap smiled that scheming smile right at him, one that Konig knew involved something blowing up.
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if you're reading this i'm so so so sorry 😭
tw// non-con 😃
Maybe it was because they knew Konig would be leaving tomorrow.
Once the contract ended, odds were he'd never see the pair again, especially since the 141's Captain had made it very clear he didn't enjoy working with some of KorTac's members or methods. They'd never have to confront any awkward situations this could bring with him gone.
Maybe it was because Konig saved both of their lives on the field when they were teamed up, because he'd seen Ghost's face when the medics pulled the mask off his barely-conscious body after Konig hauled him away from the firefight. Sergeant "Soap" MacTavish, ever protective of his Lieutenant, had seen the way he averted his eyes when they did. Konig knew the significance of wearing something to cover one's face intimately, and he never told another soul what little he saw.
Maybe it was because he'd been the only team-member-on-loan to pin Ghost on the mats. The husky 'not bad' rang through his mind every night he stayed not two rooms away from the Lieutenant's, and each night on missions when they were merely two lengths apart. If Ghost was awake and watching him, well, he was awake too. No blame to be had.
Whichever reason, for any number of the whys or hows, Soap had come up to him with an offer all the same. Maybe all of them were just the ingredients for the bomb he was walking into, one he had graciously accepted with open palms. He closed the gym's door, locked it with the key Ghost had slipped him, and felt like he'd lit the fuse.
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"Wanted to know if you'd like to join us for some... heavier sparring, around twenty-three hundred?"
"...But... the curfew?"
"Not our problem when Ghost's with us. He wants to see if you can take him down again."
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They were waiting for him by the mat.
Ghost stood tall, arms crossed like he'd been getting impatient, though Konig was confident he was on time. His mask had been swapped for a skull-faced balaclava, the rest of his tactical gear similarly absent in exchange for casual slacks, except for the plated vest lain over the black long sleeve shirt without a care for the contrast. If Soap, sitting only a few feet away from him on the concrete, had been wearing a vest too, Konig would've felt underdressed in just his hood and camo.
The Sergeant looked up when he stepped closer, still smiling from whatever he'd been talking about with his partner. "There he is!" He hopped to his feet, clapping Konig's shoulder when they were close enough(though he had to shift up on his toes to reach), then cocked his head back to the mat. Back to Ghost. "Glad you agreed to join us."
Ghost's posture, the hooded eyes- they revealed nothing. Konig looked away. Ghost's large posture...
"Ja. It would... be my honor."
Soap nodded a little, almost looking like he wanted to laugh at him, and Konig began to worry he'd been too trusting again. All the what-ifs, the encroaching possibility this was a joke against him, an embarrassment to come-
"Go over it again, then?" Soap asked.
"Rog." Ghost rumbled, his voice startling as thunder. The masked face and dark eyes may have been unreadable as ever to Konig, but whatever Soap saw there, it tweaked his expression to something devilish and playful. Konig didn't think he needed to hear the rundown again- what Soap had described hadn't, couldn't escape his mind. But for awareness' sake, he would listen.
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