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This endeavor had went on for nearly a year and a half now. Simon and you relieving stress from the job in secret. Always late in the night, not wanting to be discovered. A time where the two of you could bring your walls down and just be. It was an unspoken thing - the two of you. You didn’t put a label on it, a bit scared to make it real.
And then suddenly, he had left. Just up and left. No warning. No nothing. Took you by surprise. It was like he had never even been there. An absence that dug deeper than you’d like to admit. Sure, your pride was hurt. You’d admit that it stung. Thought he actually liked you. That you were getting somewhere. Apparently not. Fine, so be it. You’d be fine. Had played this before.
A few months had gone by and you had found out that he had been deployed. Somewhere unknown to you or anyone for that matter. You didn’t even know if he was alive or not. No way to contact him and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know if you wanted to. At first, you spiraled a lot, mind thinking of the possibilities of where he would be, when (if) he would get back, what you would say if you saw him again. You went through a range of emotions, anger, denial, acceptance, and almost embarrassingly - grief. It was never linear, sometimes coming in small ripples and other times near the size of an emotional tsunami.
You tried your best to handle it well, almost gaslighting yourself of your feelings at times. Reminding yourself that you weren’t exclusive, the idea wasn’t even brought up. But there were times when Simon would open up to you, invite you to relive glimpses of his past - times without you there. He told you the good, the bad, the ugly.
Laid himself metaphorically bare for you, brought the walls down and allowed himself to connect. So yeah, it fucking hurt. You kept yourself busy, running your body to exhaustion, anything to keep the spiral at bay. Pushing yourself in drill, drowning in paperwork, scrubbing the barracks until your fingers nearly bled.
You were doing okay (not). You had a manageable routine and were beginning to enjoy the monotony of it. Get up, grind, go to bed. You tried keeping your thoughts of him out of your head. His mouth on your cunt, his hands possessively grabbing your thighs. Just thinking about it got you hot and bothered. A flush would spread over your cheeks and you’d clear your throat, shaking the thought away. You wanted more of him, despite of how he’d done you. One taste and you were addicted. You were going through a withdrawal period and it was fucking difficult. He fucking ruined you.
The nights were the worst. When you were alone inside your head, worst-case scenarios running wild and nightmares wearing you ragged. Your voice became hoarse from screaming. Mind becoming your own worst enemy, creating scenarios within your head that morphed into an indistinguishable version of reality. It got to the point where you would get a couple of hours a night, spend most of your time distracting your anxiety, staying in the gym, going out for a run, and fantasizing about the day Simon would come back to you.
It wasn’t a real possibility.
He didn’t speak much that night. Should’ve seen it coming. But there were nights where he came in quiet and left quiet. Finding reprieve between your legs and keeping himself tightlipped. There were nights you thought of how fucked the situation was. He was your lieutenant after all. You, his subordinate. It wasn’t right for a relationship to blossom between the two of you. But you couldn’t help the way that you felt. You had never experienced anything like Simon before.
You kept to yourself and out of the way, kept your head down, and performed to the best of your ability. It was reaching the 8-month mark, with no word, and no update from anyone. You ended up having an episode, which resulted in a mental evaluation and an embarrassing amount of attention. Everyone fluttered around to your every need, not letting you do anything for yourself, which ended up in yet another episode. You tried to convince yourself that you were doing okay, but were you? You needed help.
But you did not know where to turn. The one person that you felt that you could go to had disappeared off of the face of the earth. So, you pushed things down the best that you could and kept up your front.
It crumbled when you saw him. Simon Riley, alive and well and as mysterious as ever.
13 long months he was gone. It felt like an eternity and a blip of time all at once. You’d thought he was haunting you. There was the possibility that you were seeing things - lack of sleep the main culprit. Your cheeks burned hot as you stared in his direction. A familiar pull in your lower stomach had you gasping quietly. You were going to be sick. A wave of nausea having your stomach roll.
Get.
Yourself.
Together.
His gaze was focused on Price’s, listening intently. You wondered what they were talking about. Despite wanting to run away, you couldn’t, feet stuck to the ground - like someone had played a cruel prank and glued your boots to the floor. You noticed a change in Ghost’s posture, he stood up straighter, chest puffing out and he held a hand out.
Wait.
He started to turn his head in your direction and you ran.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
You hid in the locker room. Embarrassed that you almost got caught gawking at him like some freak. Walking hurriedly over to the sink, you switched the cold water and splashed your face with it. You gasped at the coldness, letting it calm your nervous system down. Your breathing had calmed. Letting out a sigh, you rub your eyes, still leaning over the sink.
Your hands were shaking, nerves absolutely shot.
The door to the locker room swung open, metal creaking on the rusty hinges. You really didn’t pay it much mind, focusing on your breathing. Heavy footsteps echo on the tiled floors - familiar. You wipe the water from your eyes, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Another joins you.
Ghost. Not Simon. Ghost.
He doesn’t say a word, watching you through half-lidded eyes. You turn around, leaning up against the sink. You had almost forgotten how much space he takes up. It takes every ounce to look up at him - meet his eyes. They’re very cloudy, troubled, and swirling with unprocessed events.
Ghost is a near stranger to you, not someone you saw often. There’s no kindness in his eyes. His gaze is harsh, unwavering. Scrutinizing. He makes you feel small. A wave of nausea rolls your stomach again. You take a breath and swallow the bile in your throat.
He takes a step towards you and holds out a piece of paper between his index and middle finger. You reach out and take it, covering it in a soft fist. He watches silently for another heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Ghost doesn’t say a word, turns around, and walks out of the locker room.
You look around, even though no one is present, and open the piece of paper.
“My room. 0227. – S”.
Your stomach flutters and you bite your lip to keep from screaming.
You’re antsy, pacing your room as you try to decide on what to do. Did you go and see him? Did you want to see him? Who did he think he was? Walking in and out of your life like it was nothing?! You had been high on adrenaline all day, trying your best to get it out of your system. Nerves having you on edge and jumpy. You spent an hour and a half at the gym, tried grabbing something to eat but ended up not able to stomach it.
You spent the rest of your time deciding on what to do. Your mind ran wild with the open possibilities. A spiral evident, creeping up and ever looming. A shadow that had clung to you for months now, always waiting for a moment of weakness. You’d changed your outfit three times, wrung your hands nearly raw, pacing back and forth in your room, the air full of desperation.
A beep from your clock. 0220.
Your heart lurched, panic causing it to beat rapidly. You nearly went dizzy with fear, dread making your stomach drop. You couldn’t do this - can’t face him. You’d had so many fights in your head. Practiced what you would say. Now, it all died away, remnants of the past you’d spent so much time on.
You’d decided to go. A last minute hasty decision that was fueled by emotion.
It was dead silent in the hallway, your bunkmates fast asleep. Your nerves buzzed, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Quietly walking to Ghost’s room, you looked around to make sure you were alone. A glance down at your watch – 0225. Two minutes early. You fumble with your shirt sleeves, rolling the cuffs up on your wrists a bit. You don’t dare knock, afraid of it being too loud in the dead hallway.
A minute passes by. It feels like an eternity.
The next 60 seconds test your patience. You wait silently, fidgeting with your clothing and looking down at your feet. You hear a lock click and the door in front of you opens. You whip your head up quickly, nearly giving yourself whiplash. Ghost is leaning against the door frame. A Greek God. As breathtaking as ever - just like you last saw him.
His eyes are a bit clearer, still unresolved but not so glassy. With the dark lighting in the hallway, you can’t see them that well. You do notice that he has opted for a plain black balaclava, sans grease makeup. His outfit is similar to yours, a soft pair of black sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt to match. His eyes follow your every move. Unblinking. You swallow, unsure of what to do. He takes a step back – an invite inside.
Do you dare?
Don’t.
Do, please do.
Shut up.
You take a deep breath through your nose and step inside his room. As far as you know, no one has ever been inside, except for the man himself. It’s military neat, with no identifying signs of individual personality – figures. It’s undeniably him - cigarettes, a hint of gunpowder, and the surprising smell of chamomile. You’ve walked right into his lair. Lured by the predator himself. You take a small spin around, taking the room in. He stays silent.
A glance over at him – and a flurry of emotions arise within you. Your lip trembles and you shut your eyes. Not wanting him to see. He doesn’t deserve your tears.
“Can we get this over with?” you bite out, voice shaking.
You hear him shift his weight and slowly saunters over to you.
You didn’t know exactly how tonight was going to go, but you unwillingly surrender yourself to it. Ghost tilts your face up towards his own, gently turning your head side to side – a once-over. Your eyes flutter open in surprise, gaze frozen past his shoulder. You can’t even look him in the eye. A soft ‘tsk’ falls from his lips. You feel the pad of his thumb brush gently over your bottom lip.
You take a plunge, darting your tongue out to taste - trying to figure out where he’s been. A soft noise of approval rumbles in his chest. Your body acts on its own, falling into a familiar pattern. Something you never considered. Routine.
You part your lips a bit more and suck the pad of his thumb inside, swirling your tongue around. Your cheeks have flushed bright red, but with the ambient lighting, you’re hoping it is hard to tell.
He watches you intently and you finally look over to watch his eyes darken with desire, just like they always did when he was with you. He takes another step towards you and your breath hitches. All of your attention is on him. He is enticing, luring you closer and closer until your palm reaches out to lay flat against his broad chest, stopping him.
You look up at him - really look at him - pulse loud in your ears. You hear the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. A heartbeat can be felt through your fingers, strong and steady. You are completely enthralled by him. Completely broken and mended in just a short moment. He leans down, close to your ear and whispers,
“Did y’miss me?”
You nearly come apart. His voice is sultry, accent thick with lust.
“Y-Yes,” you choke out, a sob threatening to wreck your throat.
A soft chuckle leaves his lips. He traces your face with the outside of his fingers and grabs the fat of your hip, squeezing it. You squeak, biting your lip between your teeth. Having him this close is dizzying, your belly somersaulting with mixed emotions. You’re nearly buzzing with excitement. With dread. It’s overwhelming.
Simon leans down, resting his thumb on your chin before taking his other hand and rolling the bottom of his balaclava up – exposing his mouth. His lips are plush – pretty. He leans down, slowly brushing your lips together. Your eyes flutter closed. You tighten your hands into fists, not knowing if you want to pull him closer or push him away.
You can smell a faint hint of whiskey on his breath. Dying to know what it tastes like, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip. A groan escapes his lips and you do it again – wanting him to open up. Wanting to crawl inside and figure out why the fuck he left you.
You take control of the moment, slide your tongue alongside his, swirling it around – exploring every inch of his mouth. A shared moan releases from the both of you. His grip on your hip tightens and you shift closer to him. You are pressed flush against him now and can feel his cock tenting in his sweatpants.
You want to possess every part of him.
Reaching your hands up, you stretch and wrap them around his neck, pulling the two of you impossibly close. Your impromptu makeout sesh has started to become heavier, more desperate. Almost destructive. Ghost is pawing at every inch of you, forcing his way into your mouth and taking the upper hand. He lifts you like it's nothing, carrying you over to his bed. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the tent of his pants against your own clothed core. A whine escapes your lips and you grind down lightly. He pulls away, mumbling against your lips.
“Don’t be teasin’ me now.”
“Fuck you,” you huff.
He huffs a laugh, smirk pulling his lip up into an almost snarl.
“Feisty.”
He licks into your mouth then, shutting you up again. Reclaims your mouth, every inch marked by his tongue. Every molar examined, canines crashed against his own, every breath swallowed.
Every time you start to speak, he steals your words, absorbs them into his tongue, tastes the bitterness, keeps going back for more. Addicted to the hurt, the hurt he’s caused you. Hot tears flow down your cheeks, onto your lips. He licks them up, tongue sliding up your cheek and kisses the corners of your eyes.
“You left,” you sob. “Fuck you. Fuck you Simon.”
You call him out, his name staining your lips, one you hadn’t said in months. It feels foreign in your mouth. You see a sliver of him, past Ghost, wanting to come out. He growls then, nipping sharply at your jaw. His fingers tighten on your ribs, squeezing the air out of your lungs and swallowing that too. Your pussy throbs in betrayal, body arching into his touch. He claws at your shirt, ripping the fabric to get closer to you, lips leaving bruising kisses on your skin.
His fingers pull the cups of your bra down, tits spilling over the fabric. Ghost’s lips latch over your nipple, biting down and sucking it into his hot mouth. You gasp, arching into his touch. The pain stings for a moment, soothed by his tongue. He kisses up your neck, pries your mouth open with his fingers and spits.
He holds your mouth shut, forcing you to swallow. You sob, swallowing and gasping for air as he releases you. His cock brushes against your clothed pussy, hard and throbbing as he ruts against you. You curse him over and over, nails digging into his biceps and leaving crescent shaped divots into the skin.
Clenching around nothing, you grit your teeth as you come, betrayed, humiliated, desperate for more. Your face is red with tears, cheeks shiny, lips bitten and raw from his mouth. Ghost pants into your ear, grunting as his hips stutter, chasing his release.
He slumps against you, weight nearly suffocating as he sinks on top of you. You force your breathing to slow, watching his shoulders finally relax.
“‘m sorry,” he soothes, petting your sweaty temple, murmurs into your skin - hoping you’d believe him.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” he chants, kissing in between each one.
“Simon,” you pant against his lips. “Please, touch me.”
He groans against your lips, sliding his large hand up your side. Simon pushes himself up, resting conveniently between your spread legs, his weight on his forearms as he makes a mess of your neck. His nose bumps behind your ear, taking in your scent. Goosebumps break out down your body as he bites his sharp teeth into your skin and sucks. Your skin soon becomes marbled with his marks – a possession. He holds the side of your neck as he kisses down your chest. Simon maintains eye contact as he wraps his lips around the peak of your nipple and sucks. You whine, arching into his mouth. His warm tongue swirls around the bud and sends you into a frenzy. His other hand cups your breast, fingers pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers.
He leaves your nipples puffy and overstimulated, satisfied with his work. You’re watching him through hooded eyes, pleasure coursing through your body. Your mouth trembles and he begins to pull at your sweats, wanting even more of your body for himself. You lift your hips up and he pulls them off, showing off your lacy panties. A low whistle from him. His fingers brush over the delicate fabric and you arch into his touch. Needy. So needy. You spread your legs wider for him – accommodating the width of his shoulders as he settles down. You’re already soaked, and he can see that. Slick glistening against the dark fabric.
“Fuck,’ he groans, mouth watering at the sight of your arousal. “This all f’me, pet?”
You nod unashamedly.
“Aren’t you going to have a taste?” you coo softly, the sultriness in your voice surprising.
He makes no haste, leaning down and licking a stripe up your clothed cunt, once, twice, before latching his mouth over you and sucking. You gasp, his hot mouth and the friction of your panties rubbing against your pussy are delicious.
You involuntarily grind your hips down into his mouth. Simon’s eyes roll in pleasure. He laps at your folds through the fabric, mixing his spit and your arousal, making your panties absolutely soaked. They are dripping onto his sheets and you don’t even care. Simon takes his thumbs and hooks them in the waistband of your panties, taking them down your legs and throwing them over his shoulder. He places his palms flat against the meat of your inner thighs and pushes your legs wide before diving back down into your pussy.
His nose bumps up against your sensitive clit as he swirls his tongue around through your folds. Your hands overlap his on your thighs, squeezing his fingers. He’s relentless, not even coming up for air. He’s mumbling sweet praises against your cunt, the sloppiness of it echoing in the room.
“Missed this pretty pussy.”
“Fuck, you taste like heaven.”
“Look how wet you are for me.”
He slides his tongue down until it's lapping at your hole. Simon angles your hips before thrusting his tongue inside. You cry out, thighs threatening to clamp around his face. His tongue stretches you open, fucking in and out at a rapid pace. You are rocking your hips down on his face now and he is taking it like a champ. His thumb reaches up at your clit and begins swirling in circles, sloppy due to how wet he’s made you.
A pull in your stomach lets you know you’re close. Crying out as it builds steadily over the next few minutes. You come undone on his tongue, grinding against his face and milking every last drop of pleasure from him. Simon’s moaning into your pussy, rolling his hips down on the bed to satiate himself.
A thin sheen of sweat covers your body. He looks up at you, the lighting making you look angelic. Hair splayed around you like a halo, eyes blown with pleasure, body molded and pliable by his hands. Simon leans back on his knees, your pleasure dripping down his chin. His cock straining through his sweats, a wet patch growing in the front from earlier. Came in his motherfucking pants.
You’re dying for a taste.
“Let me taste you,” you say quietly, looking up at him from where you are laying on the bed.
He doesn’t oblige, shimmying out of his sweats and allowing his cock to bounce freely up toward his belly. You drink him all in, toned thighs and thick cock. It’s swollen with arousal despite just coming a few minutes ago. Dripping precum from the tip, slick and shiny. Your mouth waters. You sit up on your knees, allowing him to lean back against the headboard and make himself comfy. It had been a while since you had done this. You were a bit rusty but were determined to give it your best shot. You crawl in between his thighs, resting on your belly and making yourself comfortable. Simon pets the side of your face gently, taking his hand and swooping your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. You get to work slowly, starting with small kitten licks to his head. The first brush of your tongue has his fists clenching and a moan dropping from his lips.
So sensitive.
You smile, taking his head past your lips and forming a light suction. You swirl your tongue around the swollen head before testing with an experimental bob down. He’s fucking thick, and you strain a bit to fit him into your mouth. Simon’s a babbling mess above you. head thrown back, exposing his throat. His moans are breathy, voice wrecked with restraint. You continue, alternating between bobbing, swirling, sucking, and using your hand to stimulate what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The sounds coming from him were pornographic. And he wasn’t trying to be quiet either.
“F-Fuck, just like tha’. Yes.” He moans, “Such a pretty girl. Y’look so good with y’lips ‘round my cock.”
You moan at the praise, allowing the vibrations to travel down. He thrusts into your mouth and you nearly gag, eyes squeezing shut.
“Jesus-“ he gasps, coming undone above you. His thighs are shaking with pleasure.
You swirl soothing patterns into his skin, swallowing him down. He abruptly pushes you off of him, chest heaving. You are a bit taken aback, wide eyes looking at him in confusion.
“Too good, I want to feel ya ‘round my cock ‘fore I come,” he huffs.
His voice has dropped an octave.
He pats his lap, inviting you in. You crawl over to him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He positions both of you, your back to his chest. You’re hovering over his length and Simon has a death grip on your hip. You’re shaking in anticipation as you slowly sink down onto his cock. The breath is punched out of your lungs. You feel so full, and you haven’t even taken all of him yet. Your thighs begin to shake with exertion.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans out, swirling the pads of his fingers on the small of your back – soothing your nerves.
You’re panting, sinking inch by inch down until you’re seated flush against his thighs. Chest heaving, you lean back against his own, trying to let yourself adjust. You’re trembling, fingers encircling his wrist that is holding your hip.
“Breathe,” he pants out.
A reminder for both of you. You listen, slowing your breathing down until you feel as though he can move. You tell him. He starts slow, barely pulling out and thrusting back in. You gasp, the feeling of his length brushing against your walls intoxicating. Both of you are shaking with pleasure, slowly building up a good rhythm. The sounds of your soaked pussy and his thrusts fill the room, along with your moans of pleasure. Simon slides a hand up around your throat, squeezing slightly. You gasp as the air leaves your lungs and roll your head back against his chest. Your hips move on their own accord, slamming down to meet his thrusts. The pleasure builds in your lower abdomen as you open yourself up to him more and more.
His name repeats like a mantra on your lips. Simon. Simon. Simon. Gasping as he picks up speed and thrusts hard up into your pussy. It’s greedy for more, taking him like a fucking champ. You are in pure bliss right now, your bodies moving in tandem as you pull pleasure from each other. The both of you are so touch-deprived, craving any that you can get after 13 long months away.
“Did – you – miss me?” you ask in-between pants, rolling your hips against Simon’s.
“Yes,” he grits out, thrusting up into your cunt at an ungodly speed. His grip on your hips tightens as he shifts your body a bit, changing the angle. “Missed this tight little cunt.”
You come apart at his words, sobbing as pleasure courses through your body at the new angle he has moved you to. His cock hits that spongey spot that makes you see stars.
“I missed you so much,” you sob, pussy clamping down around his cock.
He groans, sliding a hand around your hip and to your folds. His index, middle, and ring finger lay flat against your clit, delivering a sharp smack! Your thighs tremble, threatening to close. Simon keeps them open, holding your legs wide. You nearly scream in pleasure, sharp smacks making your clit puffy. You clench around him as you ride your pleasure out.
“Yeah, sweetheart, surrender y’self to me. I’ve got you. You’re fucking mine. Your pussy’s mine.” Simon growls, thrusting over and over into your spent cunt.
Hot tears spill down your face as his hand tightens around your throat. He he pulls another orgasm from you.
You’re floating, black inkiness comfortable as you ride the waves of your pleasure. It nearly puts you to sleep. You’re so blissed out. You can faintly feel Simon tense below you, fucking up into you. You whine, overwhelmed at the sensation of feeling so full. You feel the creamy ring around his cock, hole fluttering. You can’t move. So worn out from the pleasure. Tears are still streaming down your cheeks.
Simon pulls out slowly, gently removing himself from under you and crawling in between your legs. He cleans you up with his tongue, scooping out his come. You gasp yet again, your pussy puffy and overstimulated. He’s gentle and when he’s done, he crawls back up and kisses you square on the mouth, licking inside to share with you. You groan softly, your body fighting sleep as you lazily kiss him back. He smiles against your lips – a rare thing.
You must’ve fallen asleep because when you wake, you are enveloped in one of Simon’s shirts. It’s huge on you, nearly down to your knees. You are absolutely content. The comforting smell of chamomile fills your nose. You blearily open your eyes, searching for him. He is by your side, hand resting behind his head, balaclava pulled back down over his face. You sigh, wishing you could see him in his entirety. Scooting closer, you curl up against him, throwing a leg over his and laying on his chest. Quiet, peaceful sleep awaits you. You’re more comfortable, more satiated than you’ve been in months. Sleep lulls you in, and right before you go you hear Simon.
“Same time tomorrow?”