Call of Duty Oneshots

Change (Requested Salen Kotch Smut!)

His eyes weren't the only thing dark about him. Deep inside, his soul was dark as well. Rarely did you see it turn to a brighter place. The only times ever had been with you. His only happiness.

You looked out the large window of the Olympus Mons, staring emotionlessly out at the open landscape of space. A cotton sheet was wrapped around your form, draping around your shoulders enough to show the triangular shoulder blades on your back. There was a chill in the air, yet you didn't mind.

Hard, warm lips pressed against the angle between your neck and shoulder. You started from your trance of looking out the window, blinking multiple times.

"You're awake?"

Even his voice was dark. Cold. While it was directed to be soothing, his voice was anything but. It sent more chills along the crook of your neck as he whispered.

"Yes."

You'd learned long ago to reply in as little words as possible. Salen Kotch was impatient when it came to being social. As a military leader, impeccable patience. As for listening to you, he rarely did. Mostly it was the other way around. The one time you had blurted out a five second rant, he'd almost lost it- not because of time, yet the topic...himself.

"What's keeping you up?" his lips dangerously trailed along your shoulder, a hand stroking your shoulder blades in unfamiliar comfort.

"My thoughts."

"Ah," he sounded uninterested, as always.

You quietly exhaled, allowing him to continue to trail his hands around to your hips. You'd grown used to his touch, his own personal exhibit to explore. Many times had he marked you. Many times had you wanted to do things to leave him. You were stuck in an endless, unhealthy cycle.

"What are your thoughts?"

You almost choked on air to the unexpected question. So unexpected it was....you almost felt it as romantic.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "They aren't important."

"Just tell me," he shifted closer, heat of his body antagonizing as hell. "I asked. I want to know."

"They're about us. What we are. How you..." you paused in nervousness, "treat me."

His lips stalled against your cool skin, growing into a stiff closure. He removed his lips, still staying near your body, and you physically flinched. You didn't know why. He'd never hit you out of anger nor would he ever.

"I feel like I treat you well."

"You do," you turned, sitting at the edge of the bed so you were facing him. "It's just..."

You looked away in shame. Kotch's fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his dark eyes that glistened in the lighting. You sucked in your lower lip as he dipped down, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Tell me, sweet."

"First of all," you blurted, "the way you're acting right now is confusing the hell out of me! You are totally closed off and then you open up and are sweet and loving. Our sex is good, great, but outside of anything but is ugly. You treat me like dirt one moment and then like I'm your trophy the next. You can't choose one or the other. I want to know if you're going to change that or not."