Simon "Ghost" Riley

this whole day was a disaster.

in the morning, one of the soldiers in the dining room accidentally spilled coffee on Ghost, which is why he had to change his clothes several times. after that, a bunch of stupid recruits got on his nerves during morning training, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation at the end of training. and then, on one of the missions to capture terrorists, an enemy bullet hit him in the thigh. Crap.

at first the mission went smoothly. The lieutenant and a group of soldiers under his leadership quickly dealt with the terrorists who had set up their lair in one of the flimsy ancient buildings on the outskirts of the city, and when Simon was about to leave, the last of the surviving enemies hid very well and sat very quietly, as if a mouse had shot him straight to the thigh.

now he sat wounded in a military van. and perhaps things would not have been as bad as they were if it had not been for the young nurse sitting at his feet treating the bullet wound on his thigh.

the man’s army pants were pulled down, and the wound site was unpleasantly burned with a disinfectant, but Ghost had no time for that. not when you were sitting at his feet.

the man clenched his fists, frowning to the side with a slight blush on his cheeks, desperately trying not to look even in your direction, while your fingers touched his skin, causing the lieutenant to exhale tremblingly, feeling his own erection treacherously begin to strain the fabric of his boxers and, oh gods, he prayed inside himself that you wouldn’t see anything, and that would make the whole situation even worse.

and your worried voice always asking him about his condition didn’t help much either. “I’m fine. Just finish your damn job quickly." Ghost growled through clenched teeth, unable to stop himself from glaring at you, seeing the way you were looking back at him from under your long eyelashes, which made him swallow hard. fuck.