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It was meant to be a quiet night for Ghost and Price, a rare escape from the unrelenting grind of missions and briefings. Price had picked a small pub on the outskirts — far from the eyes of soldiers and command. They’d even gone as a couple, though Ghost was never entirely comfortable in public, especially like this.
Ghost sat across from Price, mask still in place except for where he’d tugged it down to sip his beer. Price watched him, his blue eyes sharp but glinting with amusement at Ghost’s eternal wariness.
Price’s fingers lazily traced the back of Ghost’s hand, barely restrained tension simmering beneath his touch.
“Relax,” Price muttered, his thumb pressing into the worn fabric of Ghost’s glove, grounding him. “Just us tonight.”
Ghost let out a grunt, eyes scanning the pub again. Price’s touch always calmed him, though he’d never admit it aloud.
The peace was shattered when a local, piss-drunk and reeking of cheap ale, stumbled toward their table. Ghost's gaze sharpened, muscles tensing as his hand twitched near his side.
“Captain, yeah?” the man slurred, eyeing Price in a way that immediately set Ghost’s teeth on edge. “Bet you’ve got stories. Care to share?”
Price’s lips twitched, ready to dismiss him, but Ghost wasn’t having it. His chair scraped back with a harsh grind against the floor, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the table as he loomed beside Price.
“He’s not sharing anything with you,” Ghost growled, voice deep and gravelly, each word like a threat. The drunk froze, taking a stumbling step back, realising far too late that he’d made a mistake. Ghost’s presence radiated danger. Price wasn’t just his Captain. Price was his.
The man’s hands shot up, placating, as he stumbled away without another word, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Ghost’s eyes lingered on the retreating figure, his protective aura palpable. When he finally sat back down, his shoulders were still tense, jaw clenched beneath the mask.
Price smirked, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Territorial tonight, aren’t we?”
Ghost met his gaze, eyes hard as steel. He reached for Price’s hand again, squeezing just a little too tight, possessive. “No one touches what’s mine.”
Price’s lips twitched into a wry grin, heat sparking between them. “Damn right.”
Back on base, Price was always swamped with briefings, meetings, and the endless chatter of younger officers vying for his attention. Ghost knew how much Price was respected — but sometimes, the way others looked at him made Ghost’s blood boil. Lieutenant Daniels was the worst offender, always hanging around Price’s office, trying to get closer than any soldier had a right to.
One afternoon, Ghost caught Daniels leaning in too close, his voice all eager smiles as he offered to help Price with some unnecessary report. Price, always patient, stood with his arms crossed, though the slight tension in his jaw told Ghost everything.
Ghost’s footsteps were heavy as he approached, and Daniels’ head snapped up, the smile on his face faltering as Ghost’s imposing shadow fell over them.
“Lieutenant,” Ghost’s voice was cold, clipped. “Haven’t you got something else to do?”
Daniels stammered, his confidence evaporating under Ghost’s glare. “I—uh—just checking in, sir—”
“You’ve checked in,” Ghost cut him off, eyes dark beneath the mask. “Now get out.”
Daniels gave a flustered salute and practically fled down the hall, leaving Ghost and Price alone.
Price chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer to Ghost. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ll scare the lads off the base.”
“They’re wasting your time,” Ghost muttered, though there was an undercurrent of something raw, something possessive.
“Or maybe,” Price teased, leaning in until their shoulders brushed, “you’re just jealous.”
Ghost’s fingers brushed against Price’s wrist, tugging him closer with a low growl. “Maybe.” His voice was rough, feral, like the admission cost him something.
The captain chuckled, his lips ghosting over the shell of Ghost’s ear. “Good. I like it when you get jealous.” Price sauntered away with a nip to Ghost’s earlobe that left shivers running down his spine.
Joint operations always put Ghost on edge, especially when Price was in the spotlight. Price’s command presence drew attention, and Ghost could feel it—eyes lingering too long, hands reaching too far. During the latest mission briefing, Captain Taylor, from another squad, kept inching too close to Price, his hand brushing against Price’s arm like they were familiar.
Ghost stood just behind Price, arms crossed, the tension radiating from him like a warning. His eyes followed every subtle movement Taylor made, the way his fingers drifted too close, the way he smiled at Price like he was the only man in the room.
It was when Taylor leaned in with another joke that Ghost snapped.
“Captain,” Ghost’s voice was a snarl, slicing through the room like a blade. Taylor’s laughter died on his lips as he turned to face Ghost’s cold, dark gaze.
“Focus on the mission,” Ghost growled, stepping forward until Taylor had no choice but to retreat a step. “Not Price.”
The room fell into a stunned silence, all eyes darting between the two men. Taylor swallowed, nodding stiffly. “Uh, right. The mission.”
Ghost’s eyes didn’t leave him until he backed away, the threat lingering in the air long after Taylor had returned to his seat.
Price didn’t bother hiding his amusement this time, turning just enough to flash Ghost a knowing grin. Once the briefing was over, and the others filtered out, Price leaned closer, his voice low.
“You know I can handle myself, right?”
Ghost’s jaw was still tight, his possessiveness a barely leashed thing. “Don’t like anyone thinking they can get close.”
Price’s lips twitched into a smirk, his hand brushing over Ghost’s chest. “You don’t need to remind me. I’m only yours, Simon.”
Ghost’s grip on Price’s arm tightened, his thumb brushing over the fabric of Price’s sleeve, claiming. “Good.”
The day had been brutal, the mission leaving both Price and Ghost on edge. It had been a gruelling, high-stakes operation, and they were still riding the adrenaline even as they retreated to their quarters for the night. Ghost's mask was off now, discarded onto the small table beside the bed. His face, shadowed and grim, still carried the weight of the mission.
Price watched him from across the room, his gaze dark and focused. Ghost had always been the one to act first, always the one to step in and stake his claim with rough touches and low, possessive growls. But tonight, Price had a different idea.
Keyed up with adrenaline and the need to remind himself that Ghost is here, that he made it back to Price.
Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, staring at the floor, deep in thought. His mind, always working, was replaying every move, every mistake, every success from the mission.
Price knows how Ghost gets after these missions and he needed to get him out of his head. If Price got to remind him of what he was coming back to then that was just a bonus.
Without a word, Price crossed the room, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. Ghost didn’t react at first, only flicking his gaze upwards when Price stood directly in front of him.
Exactly what Price predicted, Ghost was so lost in thought he was ignoring his captain. Now that just won’t do.
“You good?” Price asked, his voice calm, but there was something in his eyes—something simmering just beneath the surface.
Ghost grunted, not quite answering, his hands resting on his knees, fingers flexing slightly as if ready to act. “Fine.”
Price didn’t take the grunt for what it was. Instead, he reached down and grabbed the front of Ghost’s shirt, yanking him up to his feet.
The move was rough, sudden, but Ghost’s response was instant. His muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing as if preparing for a fight, but Price wasn’t backing down.
Before Ghost could get a word out, Price’s lips crashed into his, fierce and unyielding.
The kiss was claiming, raw and possessive, with none of the soft, gentle touches they shared in quieter moments.
This was a different kind of hunger, one that spoke of ownership, of staking a claim. Ghost responded immediately, growling low in his throat as he grabbed the back of Price’s neck, pulling him closer, teeth scraping against Price’s bottom lip.
When Price finally pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. Ghost’s eyes, usually hard and guarded, were blown wide, dark with lust and surprise.
“What was that for?” Ghost asked breathing heavily.
“Needed to get you out of your head, love. Wanted your attention on me.” Price growled, his voice rough and deep, his hand gripping Ghost’s jaw, thumb brushing over his stubble. “You’re mine aren’t you Simon?”
Ghost’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his heart pounding in his ears as he stared down at Price. He was used to being the one in control, the one who dictated the pace, who took what he wanted when he wanted it. But now, Price's grip on him was unrelenting, a possessive force Ghost hadn’t expected, yet found himself craving.
Price’s blue eyes were sharp, burning with intensity as he tilted Ghost’s head up, his thumb digging into the angle of Ghost’s jaw with a controlled force.
“I asked you a question,” he growled, his voice dripping with authority and conviction.
Ghost’s lips parted, but no words came. His instincts were torn between the need to dominate and the unexpected, fierce satisfaction of being claimed like this. The weight of Price’s hand, his closeness, the raw intensity in his gaze—Ghost couldn’t deny it. Price wasn’t just playing along; he was making his own mark, ensuring Ghost knew the feeling of being wanted and possessed in return.
“Yes” He managed to gasp out.
“Good. Don’t forget that.”
Price’s hand moved lower, tracing the outline of the old, jagged scar across Ghost’s neck, his fingers almost reverent. There was something primal in the way he touched him, the possessiveness threaded into every brush of his finger.
In one swift motion, Price spun Ghost around and shoved him against the wall, pinning him there with his body weight. His hand slid up to the back of Ghost’s neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to keep him still.
Ghost growled low in his throat, his body tense, unused to being so vulnerable Price’s lips ghosted over Ghost’s ear, his breath hot against his skin. “You think I don’t notice the way you protect me? The way you stake your claim in front of everyone?”
Ghost didn’t answer, his breathing heavier, jaw clenched, his fingers digging into the wall. Price chuckled, low and rough, pressing his body closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin behind Ghost’s ear. “It’s my turn now.”
Price’s teeth bit down just enough to leave a mark, the pressure sharp, sending a jolt through Ghost’s entire body. Ghost let out a breathless sound, a mix of surprise and approval. When Price pulled back, he admired the fresh red mark blooming on Ghost’s skin—a mark for everyone to see, one Ghost couldn’t cover up when he lifts his mask.
Ghost turned his head slightly, catching Price’s eye, his lips twitching into a dangerous smirk. “That all you got, Captain?”
Price’s hand tightened on the back of Ghost’s neck, his other hand sliding possessively over Ghost’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Not even close,” Price rasped, voice thick with challenge.
For a moment, the air between them was charged, thick with unspoken words, heated gazes locking as they stared each other down. Ghost’s eyes flickered with a wild intensity, but Price held his ground, letting the silence stretch out as his claim solidified in the space between them.
Finally, Ghost’s tension seemed to ease, his body relaxing slightly against the wall, as if silently acknowledging Price’s control in this moment.
Price’s lips curled into a smirk, pressing a kiss to the spot where he’d left his mark.
They stood like that for a long moment, the possessiveness between them no longer one-sided. It was raw, mutual, and undeniable. Ghost may have been the one to growl, to threaten, to stake his claims on Price—but now Price had carved his own place in Ghost’s life, his own mark left behind.
And Ghost, for once, wasn’t about to fight it.