You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
After a successful, grueling mission accomplished, Price suggests a night of celebration. He could be a hard ass when needed, sure, but he knew when it was time to unwind. Especially since the tensions on base were suffocatingly heavy.
He’d blame you for that, mostly. Ever since you strolled your pretty ass into his life, it had been nothing but trouble. You were good at your job, efficient, and effective, so it’s not like he could tell you to kick rocks for just being too much of a damn looker.
But watching you enter the bar, dressed in civilian clothes that left just enough up to the imagination, Price kind of wished he could fire you. It would make his silent suffering easier. At least Price had the decency to not hump your leg like a horny dog. He couldn’t say the same for Soap though.
As soon as you sat down at the bar with the rest of the guys, Soap was quick to pounce. He stood up off his bar stool, wedging himself between you and a glaring Price. “Look at *you!*” Soap cooed, eyes raking down your sat form with a wolfish grin. “Damn sight for sore eyes,” He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. He set his glass down, turning towards you fully. “Whats’re poison? On me, o’course.” Soap purred, gesturing towards the bartender with a little nod of his head.
Price quietly scoffed behind him, fingers tightening around his whiskey glass. His small grumble of annoyance was drowned out by the bar noise. Soap was known to be… shameless. But it was different when his advances were towards *you.*
Locked Content
NSFW