Home - COD Simon Ghost Riley X Female OC

Chapter 28

Simon had sat there a long time in his thoughts. He had been held before, and he typically made himself as big of a pain in the ass as he possibly could. But this time, he was weighed down by the possibility that his actions could be Mariana's consequences. So he was observant but compliant and mostly ignored.

He sat against the wall and took himself back to the day he found her. It had been a long one, days in to the outing in the city, and he had been totally focused, ready to get out and go home. It had been busy for a while, lots of action, the stage in a mission where you had to fight through all the layers of blood and bullshit to get some actual information. To get to the actual plan.

And then there she was, and they never made it to the actual plan.

Usually, he avoided picturing what she had looked like that night, it was angering, deeply, that she had been so close and suffered so much. But Halcon had known she would play some greater role. When he knelt next to her in that dark room, he had known it too. She was beautiful, even then, especially in her defiance of him, ordering him to leave and come back for her with backup. His heart ached to know she still wished he had. His heart ached for a lot of things and he let it, cut open by the possibility that he might be making his way into his last night. It was sobering, less sad than he might have thought. Just empty.

At least she would be there.

Even though she had been gone for a bit, he refused to think they would separate them now. When the door finally opened, he didn't stand, he just turned his head and watched Halcon push her inside. And then he shut the door. And she stood, looking at it for a brief second. Before he could form the realization that she hadn't been re-chained, he could hear her footsteps coming for him.

MJ knew it was only a few strides to where he was sitting. Those few feet had felt like an impossible chasm since he got there, but in that second they felt like nothing. He had placed his hands flat on the floor, like he was going to stand and grab her, but she was already there.

He reached up and took her by the hips, pulling her roughly down into his lap, facing him. She had her hands on his face, kissing him before their bodies even met. She smelled like soaps and oils and things he didn't recognize, but she tasted like Mariana. Just like the first time. Much less timid. Her hands tangled in his hair, it was getting too long but he liked the way it felt around her fingers, her tongue searching for his like she was starving. He moved his hands from her hips where he realized he had gripped her hard enough to leave bruises and rested them on her waist for a breath before he wrapped his whole arms around her and crushed her between them.

Maybe if he crushed her down into something they no longer wanted, he could still take her with him. It was a desperate, selfish thought, maybe he could reshape her to fit his body so tightly that they wouldn't be able to pull her off of him. MJ was willing. More than willing. She had already said she would go anywhere he led her, her face full of honesty.

In truth, he just needed her to be herself. To be there, whole and still. She pulled away from his wet lips for a second, bringing her hands to run across his cheeks, his stubble an unusual sensation. It aged him. She was infatuated by it.

"Keep this." She murmured. "It's nice."

He squeezed her so tight she grunted, but she didn't try and stop him. "The mask makes it itchy."

"Oh." She brushed her hands over it again, kissing his cheek. Letting her face rub against it. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder.

He loosened his grip so she could get more comfortable and put one of his hands on the back of her head, in her hair. She turned her head, resting it on his chest, not before laying a line of kisses against the strong column of his throat. It felt like an iron brand. He trusted her. He cared for her, not in the way he cared for anyone else. Not in a way he ever had. He was broken, and that was the only explanation for how she found a crack to slip in through. She had tricked him in that house, lying there like a ghost herself, asking to be held. Put back together. And he had fallen for it, nearly as easily as he fell for the way she hunted the moon or smoked his cigarettes.