Call of Duty: Collections

Yours: Ghost

Ghost was intimidating, that much was obvious. But you'd seen the other side, the side that could be soft and sparing. It took a few years before he truly trusted you enough to make something of the tension between the two of you.

The fleeting touches, longing stares, quick glances over his shoulder. He'd keep his eyes on you wherever you went, a possessive compulsion he couldn't help but feed into, not when you had so easily pulled him in and kept him trapped with your suffocating touch, feel and smell.

He wasn't too proud to admit he wanted you all to himself. He thought he would loathe the distraction, the gnawing in his gut that screamed for you, all the fucking time. It was never-ending torture; he truly didn't understand how you managed to have him so absolutely devoted. But, the thought of you made him the happiest he'd ever been, likely the happiest he'd ever be.

He liked knowing you were his. The only thing missing was a ring and some kids, but you weren't quite there yet. He knew, and was thankful that you were on preventatives. However, the idea of you carrying his child made him almost combust. It was the most primal, obvious way to show you were his.

He'd never experienced that type of need before; but with you, it was the only thing he could ever think about when he was inside you. It drove him wild, how fucking hot you'd be, waddling around the apartment, rounded out with the unborn child inside you. His unborn child. Staying home, looking after his kids so he could provide for you, protect you. So, he did what he truly loved, the only thing that would satiate the aching desire: burying his cum deep inside you.

You'd returned to your apartment and had a quick shower before dinner. Simon was usually home later, but you'd make the most of it by cleaning and finishing the laundry.

You wrapped the towel around your body, then your head shot up to the bedroom door as it opened. Simon walked in, like he was looking desperately for something.

"Simon? What're you doing home?"

He slowed as he neared you, his hands taking hold of your waist. He didn't answer, instead, he pressed his lips against yours, tugging you closer. He pulled the towel off your body, and lifted you to his hips. You gasped at the flurry of actions, and especially as his palms gripped your ass to hold you against him.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," He mumbled against your neck, vibrations of his voice travelling through your body. "Thinkin' about fuckin' you all damn day."

You smiled coyly, a light blush dusting over your cheeks. You laughed.

"You're home early," You said, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

He lifted his head to look at you, and still had his mask on. He must've been in a rush, as it was only haphazardly rolled up to his nose bridge.

"Couldn't wait," He sighed, laying you down beneath him on the bed.

Your insides were turning to mush slowly. He flattered your ego and simultaneously made you weak in his hands. He knew exactly what to say- not purposely, either, which made it even harder to resist his antics, especially when you'd just showered.

When his hand reached down to feel the soft skin of your pussy, he let out a strangled sigh.

"Just- just let me fuck you," He said, his lips closing in on yours. "Miss the way you feel."

You swallowed, nodding slowly when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips briefly, and you took your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hand fell to the crown of his head, sliding it over his balaclava, and watched his lips engulf your breast. His hands took charge, squeezing your plush flesh in his palms, calloused hands scratching against your velvet skin.