Waking up with Poly tf141
The bed is warm if not a little cramped. Under the sheets is a tangle of limbs and the slow song of soft breaths. Hand's idly brushing other's arms and sides. The faces of the scared men finding a place of tranquility for once in their life. The soldiers in the bed exhausted from long tiring missions. None of them wanted to raise from the bed. The morning sun has barely risen over the trees to the east, stray strands of light shin through the broken window shades. The light is not much but it is enough to make Price cover his eyes with a thick forearm with a groan. Price is on the edge of the queen size bed. One of his arms trapped under your form smushed against his big chest. Price takes a few minutes to get used to the light from the morning sun. He moves his arm too look at his overs in the bed.
Ghost is on the far side of the bed, his balaclava pulled off before he passed out for the night. He is slightly curled up, as much as he can be with the Scottish Sargent sprawled out on top of him. A tattooed arm covering his mouth and crooked nose, the othered thrown over Soap's waist. Ghost's shaggy blonde hair messy from Johnny moving so much in his sleep. The scarred face deep with sorrow from years of war, soft for once. Soap laid out on top of Ghost; face hidden in the man's collarbone muttering his Scottish slang as he rests. His slightly overgrown mohawk under the masked man chin. Soap's legs in a tangle with the other sergeant's leg, handheld by you with a loose hold. Soap's chest rise and fall, voice muggy from getting sleep after a long time.
Gaz's cap hanging on the bed post with Price's bucket hat. He lays on his side; strong arms wrapped around you. He sleeps without nightmares for once. His chest is pressed against your back rising and falling with a smooth rhythm.
