Wait For Me || John "Soap" MacTavish x OC (Call Of Duty)

9. Terrible love

As had happened on previous leaves, however short, Johnny didn't return to base that night or the nights that followed.

Yael hadn't invited him and he hadn't asked; he simply stayed, as it seemed natural to them both. This new, strange routine had been a breath of fresh air for the girl.

She had managed to leave work behind for the longest period she had ever allowed herself in three years, without qualms or second thoughts. She had given herself time. Time to spend with the man she loved.

In a few days, she had discovered things about John MacTavish that the boy would not have been able to tell her in a lifetime. Small things, almost insignificant perhaps, but which had only served to sharpen the need she had built for him inside.

On sleepless nights, she had watched him sleep. And by sleep, she meant sleep so deep that she doubted she could wake him with conventional methods. It was as if he was recharging from that constant state of fight or flight he must be in during a mission.

He would toss and turn in her bed, his rough hands often grabbing her between the sheets to pull her against his massive, burning body. Yael felt almost embarrassed by the ease with which she had fallen in love with him, and perhaps also guilty for that desire to steal those moments of absolute serenity from him.

She would often rest her head on his chest, losing herself in the slow, steady rhythm of his heart, smiling at those involuntary movements of his arms that welcomed her with a sleepy groan.

Awake, on the other hand, he was a menace.

When he wasn't running in the park or taking her around the city, he paced those four walls like a tiger in a cage, begging her to give him something to do. Whether it was chewing gum or fixing something around the house, he had to keep busy. In fact, the apartment had never been as efficient as since Johnny had been with her.

However, if he wasn't focused on something else, his fixed thought was...well, Yael.

He didn't care how or where, the girl discovered that he had a desperate need to touch her, feel her close, give her pleasure. Perhaps stockpiling before being forcibly thrown back into the line of fire.

He kissed her greedily, as if the girl was air and he had been holding his breath until that moment.

He used the most absurd pretexts, and often Yael simply went along with his adorable pantomimes, amused.

"Seein' anything ye like, bonnie?" he had chuckled smugly once, when the doctor's eyes had lingered a bit too long on the gloved fingers that were nervously drumming on the car's steering wheel.

"Chatty. It was the tapping, it distracted me." the girl had promptly retorted, but she had looked away.

"Mhmm. Aye. Keep tellin' yerself that, bonnie." the shameless arrogance was palpable in the husky tone, the confidence plastered on his attractive face, as one corner of his mouth curled towards her.

The thick Scottish accent on every word, deliberately making her blush. Then it had returned to the rhythmic pace of before, this time deliberately.

That voice.

Yael had a strong suspicion that Johnny was aware of the effect it had on her. That husky, deep cadence that rolled over her skin into parts of herself she didn't remember having.

He knew how to whisper confessions and images to her that, in other times, she would not have allowed a man to evoke in her. The way he wanted her was all-consuming, dizzying.

"Dinna haud back, lass."

"I cannae come till ye moan my name, bonnie."

For her, John MacTavish was like the storm.