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Your name leaves his throat as a whisper that scorches the back of his throat.
Groaning as he buries himself deep inside of you. Your head thrown back, eyes squeezed together in pleasure. Later he'll feel the deep crescent marks in his arms as you claw into them to keep yourself grounded - but right now he couldn't care less.
You're beautiful, it takes his breath away. On dark days he wonders why him, you could have had anyone yet you chose him.
He did everything he could to distance himself, he didn't deserve you. Yet you wormed your way into his cold heart, taught him that he was deserving of love, more specifically your love.
Your mouth opens and closes, kiss bitten lips trying to form words, but you're far beyond that point. Mind taken over by pleasure, your can do nothing but take what he's giving you.
He takes a moment to look down where you're joined together most intimately; split open on his cock. Your cunt red and swollen from what he can only say is hours of making you scream, he'd taken you apart bit by bit with his fingers, curling the incredibly thick digits inside of you all the while whispering pure filth into your ear.
"Hear that? So wet for me pet."
"Such a pretty pussy, prettiest I've ever seen."
"I'm not stopping until you drench me."
Sheets drenched from your come and arousal, the scent of it fills the air he can taste it on his tongue.
Using nothing more than the tip of his finger he traces your pussy lips and you come alive with a wail, twisting in a half thumbled attempt to get away, but you can't he has you held down tight with one hand splayed over her stomach.
"Where'd you think you're goin, eh?"
He can feel his cock inside of you.
Fuck.
He almost blows his load right then.
"Simon."
Hearing you say his name is like a siren call, it beckons him. It awakes something deep inside of him. Your cunt clenches pulling a hiss from him, you're so tight, even after all this time; it reminds him of the first time he entered into your heat.
"There's my pretty girl."
Calling you that still makes you blush, it blooms over her face and chest. You tug at him weakly, he knows what you want, what you need. He molds himself against you, hands moving all over his back, up to his neck and they settle around his mask less face. You need him close, so close that he swears your trying to burrow herself inside of him.
He'd let you too.
His lips found yours in a burning kiss, your lips were soft, almost silken, against his own. The soft tickle of your breath beneath his nose, fingers carding through your hair, breathing each other in. Hands finding his hair and pulling slightly tugging a little hard when he thumbed your clit. He smoothed his hand up her hip and you moaned a little, and rolled against him.
He was ready to pound you into the mattress and not stop until tears streamed down your face, but the tenderness you've displayed makes him change his plan.
In moments like this he isn't Ghost, he's Simon. Simon Riley. He's not a soldier, just a man who loves you.
He isn't a man of words, but of action.
So, he tells you in his way.
Interlacing fingers together he gave a soft squeeze as he pressed gentle kisses over her exposed neck and shoulder, you let your head rest heavily against the pillow.
When he reached your shoulder he rested his forehead against it for a moment, and closed his eyes. He brought your twined hands up to rest against your waist, and pulled in tight to himself, his whole body embracing yours.
You hummed, and regarded your entwined hands contentedly. Simon took his time running his hand over your body. You whimper, and needy roll against him, was enough to get Simon to move. He withdrew slowly, and then pushed back in, equally languid. Again and again. His strong body curving around yours, his hand tracing up your thigh to play with your clit.
His hips moved in slow lazy circles which built up the pleasure in your body slowly but it was good. His gentle fingers slipped deftly over your clit, spreading a tingling sensation all through your lower half. You felt him filling you up, pressing against your walls, and gliding over that special spot inside you that made you call out his name. Groans and grunts poured out of his mouth, along with gruff whispers of your name.
He pressed his lips against yours, and languorously pushed his tongue into your mouth. You reached up to grasp the back of his head, fingernails scratching against his scalp before tugging down in hair.
Simons cock pressed against your g-spot perfectly, again, and you fell back against the pillows with a soft cry. The slow roll of his hips practically sinful you moaned long and low, as his finger at least picked up the pace against your clit.
You moaned again, fingers clenching against the bed sheets. Lips finding yours once more his thrusts started to find and uneven pace He grunted you whimpered softly, cupping his cheeks and kissing him harder as you felt his pattern growing uneven. He snaked a hand down your body thumb grazing over your clit over and over and that’s all it took to send you over the edge. you called his name softly, a gasp pulled from your chest. Your stomach quivered as your whole body tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed.
Simon was still moving inside you, his hand having left your clit to grasp at your hip. His pace was even, but he was panting, clearly overwhelmed by sensation himself. You were boneless in the wake of your orgasm, his hand clenched rhythmically against your hip. He pressed inside you twice more, and then with a rumble like rolling thunder, he groaned your name, and came inside you. You felt his whole body snap tight with tension, and then ease as his orgasm left him.
When he comes to, he can feel your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, you're mumbling nonsensical words of praise, peppering the side of his face and neck with feather-like kisses.
He moves away and you whine feeling his loss; reaching out for him he catches your hand in his gives it a gentle squeeze, kissing the inside of your wrist.
"Easy love, gotta clean up."
As he eases his spent cock from inside you, he watches as his come spills out from your well fucked cunt, the primal side of him wants to push it back inside, use his fingers to place it where it belongs, deep inside.
Mark you as his.
The thought makes his cock twitch.
Instead he grabs a damp towel and wipes you down. You sigh in content, the cold towel easing some of the soreness. When you're clean, the towel is left abandoned on the floor.
Simon glances over your body, a coy smirk on his face at some of the marks he's left and he simply can't help himself when he bends down and places a kiss on your pussy.
He barely escapes before your legs close violently. He chuckles as you glare at him half heartedly.
"What? A kiss for a job well done."
"Simon Riley, you're lucky I love you."
He hums in reply as he reaches for his discarded t-shirt and helps you slip it on, he just puts on a pair of old gray sweatpants. When you stand to go into the bathroom, you walk on shaky legs which don't go unnoticed by him, he doesn't say anything, just smirks to himself.
While you take care of your business, he makes quick work of stripping the bed of the dirty sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. He was just finishing the final touches when you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his back.
"In you get."
You waste no time collapsing into the bed, curling around him when he joins you, throwing a leg over his hip. Sharing a few lazy kisses before you whisper a goodnight to him, it doesn't take you long to drift off into a deep sleep.
Simon lies awake for a little longer, just taking the opportunity to watch you. He's been gone a long time; four months. It's moments like this that has kept him alive, when it got difficult, he would think of you.
What were you doing?
What were you thinking?
He would picture you sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket, nursing a cup of tea in one hand, reading a book in the other.
It kept him going.
You kept him going.
He keeps a picture of you in the breast pocket of his uniform, right where his heart is.
Ghost is a battled hardened man, who savagely takes down anyone who stands in the way of his objective.
Simon Riley on the other hand?
Well, he's just a man who loves his misses.