ghost who always have a grey, heavy, uninterested air about him but one day he comes to work, and he's got something behind his ribs clawing to be let loose. his teeth are clenched, his eyes sharp. his orders bite harder, his patience runs thinner, and the recruits feel it but don't understand it.
and it's all because you couldn't lie back and get eaten out like every other morning. it was routine. ingrained. automatic. ghost slips under the covers, dips his head between your thighs, and laps at your sex until you leave the mess he loves best— the slick, saturated spot he'd sniff while still wet. (can't blame me, luvie. it's sweet.)
you'd gotten up, thrown your clothes on in a hurry, and had been out the door, keys in hand, before he could get a word in.
unacceptable.
(kyle later catches him and asks him if he skipped breakfast or something. not by choice is what ghost tells him.)