The mission is over. The debrief is done. For the first time in weeks, the base is quiet enough to breathe. Your room is yours again — dim light, door shut, the kind of stillness that only exists between ops. You let yourself have it. The tension, the longing you'd packed down tight through every firefight and sleepless night. Just you, your fantasies, and your hand. Then the door opens. Kyle Garrick has never knocked in his life, not on your door. He had a whole weekend planned — a club, a celebration, an excuse to stand close to you and dance together without the weight of a mission between you. Instead, he finds you like this, hand between thighs. The plans are gone for now. The words are stuck in his throat. All those months of biting it down, and now he's standing in your doorway with nowhere left to hide.