The Medic || Ghost [Simon Riley] Story.

So fucking perfect.

   Myla

The mask, he wants me to put the mask back on? Every ounce of sense and control I have in my body has diverted south. Pooling between my legs as I grip the material in my hand. Ghost's fingers curl around my wrist, just tight enough to make me weaken my grip. He takes the mask from my hand, drops my wrist and in a swift movement pulls the mask on top of my head.

He's going to kiss me. I know he is. Like I can read the interceptors in his brain before the message has even been sent.

Crashing his lips to mine he invades my mouth with his tongue urgently. Immediately. I give into him, melting into his chest, losing all my inhibitions. I'm done. I'm his. I am putty and he can mould me any way he wants. I love the way he tastes, the way his tongue glides over mine, the soft involuntary moans that he makes when I match him lick for glorious lick.

He stops abruptly, drawing back from my mouth. His lips swollen and puffy and I can't help wondering if mine are the same. My chest heaves when he pulls down the rest of the mask covering my face.

"Take those fucking trousers off." He orders gruffly. I was so laser focused on the mask and the possibility of being included in the mission that I completely forgot that he had told me to lose the pants. How? I've got no fucking idea.

"Sir?" I question, my voice shaking a little. Cheeks burning as I realise my slip up.

There's a glint in his amber eyes, he liked that. Me calling him sir.

"Drop the fucking trousers."

With one hand I undo the button and shimmy out of my cargos, dropping the material to the floor before stepping out of them. Before I can wait for my next instruction Ghost charges on me, lifting me onto the sink.

Instead of another order he hooks his finger around the cotton between my legs. His blazing eyes flash up to mine, and now I'm overly aware of just how damp they are. His fault of course. There's a grumble in his throat, feral, claiming. His hands leave me, dropping to his belt. One handily he unclips his belt, his eyes never leaving mine as he slides down his trousers and boxers. I can't tear my eyes away from him, heat building in the mask as my breathing rasps. Never before I have I wanted something so much in my life. I might die without it.

He drops to his knees, gripping my ass he pulls me to the edge of the counter. My panties stuck in the crease of my thigh as his breath hits my core. My entire body jerks with carnal anticipation. 

Ghost wastes no time, flattening his tongue he licks a strip from my hole to my aching clit. Sucking on it with painfully light bursts. 

"Fuck," He hisses "you taste so fucking good." The flick of his tongue quickens, alternating between long languid swipes and slurping kisses. "I'm not going to stop until you squirt in my mouth, baby." He murmurs lowly. 

Ghost's teeth graze my clit again, he can read my movements, the change in my breaths. My stomach pulls in, orgasm cresting. 

"I can feel you pulsing on my tongue," He adds two fingers into my opening, curling them at the end as he laps at my pussy. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I yelp out gripping his head, forcing him deeper.

How is it that he knows exactly what I need, what to do? 

Working faster, he coaxes me with filthy words and perfect motions. "Fucking come, come in my mouth."

The band inside me snaps and I reel forward, gasping his name. Raspy breaths burning my lungs as I hold on to his name. Trying not to scream it at the top of my lungs.

Standing, he gives me a devilish smirk, "Good fucking girl." He pulls his mask down over his lips. Denying me a kiss. 

Before I can register what I'm doing, I reach for his cock. Concrete, veiny, and fucking thick. A bead of precum sits on the tip. My mouth waters desperate for a taste. His fingers curl around my wrist, yanking my hand away from him.

Lining up with my entrance he pushes his cock into my opening, "So fucking tight. It would be a shame to ruin such a perfect pussy." 

He's so agonisingly big. At first I wasn't sure he'd fit. But I mould to him. I am made for him. Grunting as he feels me adjust to him, Ghost slowly rolls his hips, thrusting into me. One hand brushing upwards from my stomach, over my breast and around the back of my neck.

"You take me so well," The tip of his cock brushes against my g spot, I reel forward. Sharp pangs of pleasure take a hold of me. His thrusts become erratic, my walls clenching around him.

"Keep squeezing me like that and I'll come inside of you." He moans.

I press my hand against his chest in panic, "No, you can't."

The thought of him spilling inside of me filling my pussy with his cum tips me over the edge, my head falling back as I cling onto him. My hand fisting his t-shirt as I rasp out his name. The force of my climax pushing against his cock. He draws back quickly, spurting over my swollen pussy. The hot cum coating my clit and lips, dripping down into my hole.

Ripping the mask off of my head he shoves it into the sink, turning on the hot and cold tap, soaking it before wringing it out. He brings the damp mask between my thighs and cleans up the mess we made.

"You are fucking perfect." He hums, the deep rise and fall of his chest my main focus. I did that. I made him feel like that. He may have been the one in control, but it was me that he gave into.

He discards my mask in the garbage can by the sink, then he fixes my underwear.

I am speechless. What am I supposed to say after that?

Because somehow 'thank you' doesn't seem like it will cut it.

Fixing himself, his lifts his amber eyes to mine, "You did such a good job." Put your trousers back on. We move out in 10."

----------------------------------

A/N:

Short and sweet