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"This is a one-time thing," he'd told you, "No strings attached."
He was angry and you were stressed, it was a given that things would devolve into a quick, angry fuck. You didn't mind though; it was just an outlet for frustration at the time, something you'd both needed.
One-time thing.
You scoffed. You had lost count how many times he'd cornered you in some dark closet or an empty hallway or come to you late at night. But you'd welcome him with open arms and pleased sighs nonetheless, and spiral further into pleasure late into the night. You'd invite him into your space and he'd pin you down face first, pound into you hard and fast and you'd moan helplessly; and when he was done and you were satisfied, he'd leave you to clean up and return to his room, disappearing in the night like his callsign's namesake.
It never came off, his mask. Ghost was a private man, and you respected that. You never asked him to take it off or tried to remove it, content with the shape of his body pressed to yours. But late at night, when you missed the warmth of his body pressed close, you'd think about what he looked like underneath; you'd touch yourself while imagining his lips scraping across your body, his hands gripping you, caressing you.
It was after one of these lonely sessions, where you lay panting, out of breath, the memory of his touch fading with your orgasmic high, that you had realized your mistake. Somewhere along the line, you'd fallen for Ghost; hard. But you had a theory, one you were eager to test. You were patient, observant, you'd grown bold in your interactions with the lieutenant, something he seemed to take in stride.
But one day, he'd gone off on a mission.
"It's just a short mission. I'll only be gone for a few days," he'd told you.
But days turned into a week and a week turned into two. You waited, of course, how could you not? What else was there to do? Throughout the days, you'd keep yourself busy with training and paperwork, thoughts of the Brit never far from your mind. And when night fell, and you'd exhausted yourself for the day, you'd return to your quarters and pleasure yourself to his memory. But it was never enough to satisfy you.
At the beginning of the third week you'd grown irritated, worried for his safety, and your work suffered from it. Days previously spent buried in paperwork were now spent staring out the window deep in thought, pen tapping idly until your superior would tell you sternly to "get back to work!"
When Ghost and his squadron returned at the end of the third week, he was angry and you were desperate. He avoided you as much as he could, barricading himself in his room; when you tried to ask your friend Roach what had happened, the Sergeant had only shaken his head, "It's best you didn't know."
You were tired by the end of the day, run ragged from filing paperwork all day, but you couldn't give up; you had to see him. Now, you were in front of his door, nervous; what if he didn't want to speak to you? What if he wanted to end what was between you? Had you misinterpreted his intentions? You balled your hands into fists, shaking your head. Even if you did, the two of you were still close, still friends; you needed to check on him.
Taking a deep, calming breath, you knocked on the door, "Ghost?"
No answer.
You knocked again, this time trying the handle; it was open, not good. He didn't usually like to be found, but if he did it meant he needed comfort; that was something you'd learned early on in your fling with him.
"Ghost?" You called again, opening the door.
Inside the room was dark, moonlight streaming in through the blinds, creating a striped pattern across the floor and bed. On said bed, Simon sat on the edge with his back to the door, head hanging low as he stared seemingly at the floor. You closed the door quietly, but loud enough to make sure he heard you; after all, you didn't want to startle him. His head perked up and he glanced over his shoulder.
Your breath hitched, his mask was off, in his hands, but he made no move to put it back on as you moved closer to him to sit beside him.
"Are you alright?" you asked quietly, worried.
"I will be…" Ghost replied curtly, turning his attention back to the marked balaclava in his hands, thumb tracing over the skull pattern.
"Do you… want to talk about it?" you continued; it was obvious something was bothering him.
"Not really," he mumbled.
The air was thick with tension, and you were unsure what to do about it, so instead you asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Ghost was quiet for some time, seemingly mulling over what he should say, until he raised his head. His brown eyes, normally so playful and mischievous, held a pained, dark look; your heart squeezed at the raw emotion in his eyes alone, but his brow was furrowed, face twisted in sadness as he whispered out a single plea.
"Stay with me? Please?"
With a tone as broken as the one he used, how could you refuse? You nodded and scooted closer, wrapping your arms around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder comfortingly. Ghost says nothing, only turns his attention back to the mask in his hands. You watch him curiously; while he never spoke of his past, his habit of keeping secrets obviously meant the man had more than just a few skeletons in his seemingly deep closet. You wouldn't pry, it wasn't your business, but you hoped that one day he'd open up to someone about it. He turned then, placing the mask on the nightstand.
He muttered your name and you hummed curiously, pulling away to meet his surprisingly unguarded gaze.
He stared at you for a moment, eyes flicking about your face as if searching for something before meeting your gaze once more. Without another word, the Brit leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a long overdue kiss. It was soft, hesitant, unsure, but you pressed yourself closer to him in reassurance.
Your theory was right.
You realized as he laid you back, your lips still connected, that you hadn't been misinterpreting. He'd become softer in the nights he'd spent with you, careful, loving you dared to call it; somewhere along the way, he'd also fallen for you, or maybe, he'd loved you from the start, even if he was quick to leave so soon after finishing. And when you thought about it, about the emotions that would swell in your chest as your eyes met during the heat of the moment, you realized you felt the same.
He kissed you desperately, eager to drown himself in you in the same manner of a man on the brink of dehydration. Like every other night, you welcomed him with open arms, falling deeper and deeper into his heart. You parted your lips with a sigh, your hands running through his short brown hair as his tongue invaded your mouth. He was eager, more eager than you've ever seen him, and you wondered just how long he's waited to do this.
He worked slowly, his skillful lips and tongue leaving you breathless as he kissed you. You draped your arms around his neck, parting your legs to invite him closer. He hummed lowly and pulled away to press kisses down your neck, his stubble scraping pleasantly across sensitive skin. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulder and back through his thin t-shirt.
This soft side of his was new, but you weren't going to complain as he slid his hands beneath your shirt, calloused fingers scraping over your stomach and sides in an almost ticklish manner. Every move he made left you breathless and squirming; he was teasing you, dragging out every movement to make you feel it ten times more.
"Ghost…" you sighed breathlessly, your hands gripping his hair as he sucked a hickey onto your collarbone.
He muttered something, then, and you sat up with a curious hum as he pulled his kiss bruised lips from your skin.
"Simon, call me Simon."
You smiled, cupping one of your hands on his cheek, your thumb rubbing across his bottom lip, "Simon…"
Ghost's breath hitched as his eyes fluttered closed upon hearing his name fall from your honeyed lips, his lips parting to invite your thumb into his mouth. You accepted readily, thumb tracing along his back teeth before toying with his tongue. He held your gaze as his tongue caressed your thumb, lips closing around it to suck briefly before letting it go with a final lick.
You urged him back up to your lips, meeting him in a hot, messy kiss this time. He moaned into your mouth, hands once again stroking your sides as he grinded into you. You jolted and moaned appreciatively at the sudden feeling of him pressed close, his cock hard through his sweatpants. You shifted closer to meet his grinding halfway, but it wasn't enough and soon you were huffing out a displeased whine.
Ghost chuckled against your neck and pulled away, hands sliding up your sides to push your shirt up, "Take your shirt off, love."
You blushed instantly at the nickname; he'd never called you that before, only by your callsign or real name. Ghost seemed to realize this and leaned back in for a gentle kiss, only parting to help you take your shirt off before returning.
"I could call you something else, if you'd like," he mumbled against your lips, pausing to press a kiss between each suggestion, "Love. Babe. Sweetheart. Dear…" he moved his lips up to your ear to whisper roughly, "Any of those suit your fancy?"
Ghost's voice was deep, gravely with lust, something he knew turned you on, and when all you could do was let out a whimper, he chuckled before kissing his way down your neck to your chest. His mouth followed no path, wandering aimlessly across your chest and stomach, pausing occasionally to gently nip or suck at soft flesh, enjoying watching you squirm. You lay breathlessly content, staring at the ceiling in the daze of pleasure he'd drowned you in. When he dragged his stubbled lips over to a pert nipple, your hands shot up to fist in his hair, back arching in surprise as you let out a yelp.
"Simon!" You chastised playfully, easing your grip in his soft brown hair, petting the nape of his neck and scraping your nails over the short hairs there in apology, "Don't tease so much."
"'m sorry, love; can't help it," he muttered against your skin and you sighed, resting your head back against the bed as he continued his path down your stomach.
You sighed pleasurably, running your hand through his hair, "Simon…"
He hummed noncommittally and you pushed yourself onto your elbows to watch him nip the sensitive skin below your navel. His hands gripped your hips, sliding his hands slowly beneath your waistband before glancing up at you for permission. You nodded, lifting your hips as his hands slid down your hips to pull your pants and underwear down and off, tossing them somewhere behind him.
With the pace he was going at, you weren’t surprised when he diverted his lips to your knee to press a chaste kiss there. He moved ever so slowly up your thigh, making sure to drag his stubbled, slightly chapped lips along your inner thigh. You gasped at the feeling, your breath hitching when he paused at the apex of your hips, so close you could feel his hot breath on you, but just out of reach. When you raised your hips towards his mouth, he hummed and pulled away, earning a disappointed whine from you as he moved back up your body for a kiss.
“Sorry, love, got other plans down there; another night though…” Ghost promised with a whisper against your lips, and you let out another whimper at the thought as he slid his hand down your stomach.
You shifted and parted your legs to give him better access, and the moment he touched his lips to yours in an absolutely filthy wet kiss, his calloused hand slipped down to stroke you where you needed him most. You let out a pleased sigh against his lips, burying your hands in his hair again as he switched between stroking and rubbing you, to your delight. While you’d touched yourself to his memory multiple times throughout his deployment, nothing could ever compare to the real thing.
“You’re more excited than usual,” Ghost noted, nuzzling against your ear as he rubbed his slick coated fingers against your entrance but never pushing in, “Miss me?”
“Of course I missed you, idiot…” you muttered in reply, biting the shell of his ear playfully.
He hummed and pulled away to shuffle through his nightstand for lube, leaving you to catch your breath as you watched, touching yourself idly to keep the heat in your gut from dwindling. When he turned back to you, you cast him an unimpressed look, glancing at his still clothed body.
“What?” he asked, seemingly clueless.
“Simon… take off your clothes,” you whined, pulling him back to bed.
The Brit tossed the bottle on the bed beside you, and rolled over to let you straddle him, “You wanna do it for me?”
Instead of offering a reply, you huffed and seated yourself in his lap, directly over his clothed cock. Ghost’s breath hitched as his hands shot to your sides, hips involuntarily thrusting up into yours; you noted with grim satisfaction that your slick had begun to stain the bottom of his shirt and crotch of his pants as he seemed all too happy to simply grind up into you. He buried his face in your collarbone, panting against it as he ground into you, your hands bracing on his shoulders. It felt good, nice, but it wasn’t what you needed.
“Simon…” you warned, pulling back to tug on his shirt, “Off.”
“I thought I was the one to give orders around here,” Ghost replied, but removed his shirt anyway.
“Maybe any other night, but not tonight. I haven’t even gotten to touch you,” you said, running your hands over his chest appreciatively, noting how his breath catches when you trace over a few scars, “It’s been weeks…”
Ghost looked down, resting his forehead against your sternum, “I thought you’d have moved on if I weren’t around, that you took my words to heart...”
“Simon,” you said, cupping his cheeks in your hands to force him to look up and meet your gaze, “You’re many things, but one thing you aren’t is a good liar. I’ve seen how you look at me, felt the way you hold me, caress me; that sort of thing doesn’t happen in a normal fling. I’ve known your feelings for a while,” you admitted, bumping your forehead to his affectionately, “And I feel the same; I’m not going to move on without you.”
Ghost’s brows drew up at that, a pleading, unguarded look of pure affection in his glistening eyes. A stray tear fell from his eyes and you were quick to wipe it away with a gentle trace of your thumb; he took a shaky breath, resting his head against your chest before he maneuvered you to lay down on the bed again.
“Let me take care of you tonight, love. Properly,” he stated with finality, sniffling quickly to rub his eyes.
He stood to remove his pants and socks before joining you on the bed again; he pressed a chaste kiss to your neck and you relaxed against the bed as he opened the bottle of lube to coat his fingers. You eyed his neglected cock, reaching for it, when he smacked your hand away. You cast him a curious look and he shook his head.
“This is to make it up to you, not me,” he stated, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together to spread and warm the lube.
“As if I didn’t enjoy your cock as much as I enjoy the rest of you,” you scoff, but relent nonetheless, leaning back on your elbows.
“And here I was thinking you stayed for my charming good looks,” he teased, knowing full well he kept his mask on every other interaction he’s had with you, kneeling between your legs, “Are you ready?”
“God, I’ve been ready for ages, Simon,” you muttered, shifting further down to allow him better access to your entrance.
"Is that so?" he muttered, raising your leg to rest against his shoulder as his finger circled your entrance, "Well, then I better not keep you waiting, should I?"
You were about to reply with a witty retort when the feeling of his finger intruding into you cut you off with a gasp. A playful smirk graced his lips as he slowly thrust his finger in and out.
"What was that, love? I didn't quite catch you the first time," he teased.
You let out a moan in reply, earning a chuckle from him. His hands felt godly, his finger just the right mix of thick and calloused that drove your senses wild as it slid oh so perfectly in and out. When your moans turned into whines, he added a second and began moving them in a scissoring motion, stretching you further. His fingers grazed your spot and you let out a louder moan at the incidental brush, Ghost leaning down to nuzzle your neck before capturing your lips again to swallow your sounds.
It was when he added a third finger that you grunted in discomfort, and he took it slow in preparing you, pressing chaste kisses to your cheek and brow to ease your discomfort. This time, his fingers purposely sought out your sensitive spot, brushing against it with every other thrust. You whined, shifting your hips towards Ghost’s hand in a futile attempt to get him to hit it every time, but he knew you well enough to avoid it.
“Simon, I swear to fucking god, if you don't fuck me right now-” you grunted in annoyance at his uncharacteristically cheeky grin, but again he cut you off with a kiss and removed his fingers, muffling the whine you let out with his tongue before pulling away.
“C’mon babe…” he muttered as he sat up and reached for the lube again, urging you to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he stroked his slicked hand over his neglected cock, sighing in relief at the touch, “You know, I thought about you the whole time I was gone… touched myself to thoughts of you. But it was never enough, nothing could feel as good as you do, love.”
Your breath hitched at the confession, the way he moaned quietly as he worked his length slowly. Ghost watched as you sat up, holding his gaze as you brought your hand to cup over his and stroke along his cock together. You initiated another open mouthed kiss, your free hand coming up to caress his cheek, sliding over stubble as it slid to the back of his neck to pull him closer and back down to the bed. He was breathless now as you guided his hand on his cock, adding just the right amount of pressure and speed. He knew you, but in your months together, you’d gotten to know him as well, you realized as he moaned into your kiss.
“You keep that up, love and I won’t be able to fuck you like you want,” he muttered, lips brushing yours as he pulled away to catch his breath.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You asked with a grin, letting him go and laying back to let him prepare.
He stroked himself a few more times just for show, a grin on his face as he watched you watch him, before he inched closer and lined himself up. Casting you one final glance, you nodded before he pressed into your entrance, slowly as you got reacquainted with his length. He braced his hands by your head, watching you squirm, searching your face for any discomfort, his brown eyes roaming your face with a look you’d describe as adoration. You cupped his face in your hands with a smile, wincing momentarily as he bottomed out, and he returned the smile, pressing a kiss to your thumb.
"Move, Simon, please," you whispered, wrapping your leg around his hip to urge him to continue.
Ghost nodded, resting on his forearms as he pulled out slowly before shoving back in, a shudder wracking his frame at the sensation. You moaned in unison, his breath hot against your face as he began to set a pace. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, running your hands over his scarred back as he moaned into your neck, drowning in your embrace.
He pulled away enough to meet your eyes as he thrust, his brow furrowed in concentrated ecstasy as his soft brown eyes met yours. Your breath hitched at his movements, caught in his gaze like a fly in honey as moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting light across his pale, built form. You let out a loud moan, tilting your head back as your nails dug into his shoulders, the pressure in your gut mounting.
Tears built in your eyes as you gazed upon him, adoration swelling in your chest alongside your lust and you reached up to cup his face, "I missed you so much, Simon…"
Ghost grunted in exertion, his pace faltering as he balanced on one hand to caress your cheek and wipe your tears with the other, "I missed you too, babe…"
He leaned down and captured your lips in a soothing kiss, his hand sliding down your chest to pinch nipple before continuing on til it was between your thighs, stroking you along with his thrusts. Ghost was moaning with every other thrust now, growing desperate as he felt his own orgasm on the brink. His strokes and pace became messy, but it didn't matter as the orbited sensations had their intended effect.
You came with a cry, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave as you drowned beneath the sea of ecstasy, clenching around Ghost's cock. The Brit moaned at the feeling, thrusting one final time before burying his face in your neck and his cock deep inside as he came hard for the first time in weeks.
You were both breathless, sweaty, and sticky now, but neither moved as you caught your breath and basked in the afterglow, Ghost having collapsed on you after orgasming. You sighed comfortably and ran your hand through his short brown locks, humming appreciatively as he pressed wet, lazy kisses to your neck.
"I missed you," he muttered again, "Don't leave me. Please."
You smiled and turned your head to press a kiss to his sweaty temple, "I won't, I promise."