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Summary
Hunger is something Ghost was intimately familiar with. The weakening, cramping, debilitating pangs of agony. The bitter burn of stomach acid creeping up his throat in search of sustenance.
This hunger was foreign, the biting, all consuming desire stuffing him full, until he’s fit to burst and he’s still not fed. Hunger in the way of saliva wetting his mask as he watches Soap’s grey tee cling and darken with his sweat. Losing count of his reps because the omega had decided just then to practice his downward dog form.
Hunger, so severe and absolute that he fears Soap will be able to feel a physical manifestation of it. The grave weight of his want.
or, Alpha Ghost thinks he has it all, until Omega Soap joins the taskforce and throws his world on its axis.