Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Desert Rose pt-2

Their breaths mingled, their bodies closed but not touching. Her dark eyes locked with his, a mixture of surprise and something he couldn't quite name. The base buzzed in the background, the sound muffled but present.

"I won't let you go," he murmured, his voice low, a possessive edge to his tone. He was no stranger to the game of war, to the dance of dominance and submission. But this wasn't that. This was a different kind of need. One that transcended the battlefield transcended the mission.

He raised a hand, a sudden move, and lightly ran a finger down her arm, goosebumps rising in response to his touch. "You're mine," he whispered, the words coming out almost involuntarily, fueled by a possessiveness that he couldn't control.

Palwasha's expression hardened, her defiance surfacing at his declaration. "You can't own me," she shot back, her voice steady, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm not a trinket to be claimed."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "No," he agreed, his tone matching hers. "You're not a trinket. You're more."

And then, he pressed his lips to hers, a possessive, searing kiss. He'd dreamt of this since he first glimpsed her in the haze of battle, a fleeting vision of strength and tenacity. That moment in the village, it had been a spark, an ember that ignited something within him. And with this kiss, he was claiming it.

She pushed him back. "Sataso pa and taaso khok yaast?" She yelled

The words broke through the heated tension like ice water, and Ghost stepped back, his gaze sharpening. "English," he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance.

Palwasha's eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and something else he couldn't quite place. "You don't own me," she repeated, her words echoing as if they were for herself as much as for him.

"Noted," he retorted, his voice gruff with the sting of rejection. The moment was shattered, replaced with an awkward silence.

"Look, Palwasha." Ghost started, the silence too heavy to bear. "I didn't mean... I was just..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "There's no denying we have a connection."

She crossed her arms, her gaze guarded. "Is that what you call it?"

"What the hell would you call it?" he retorted, his voice edged with irritation, more at himself than her.

"I am not... I am out." She said and turned around to go to her room.

"Palwasha." He called after her, the sharpness of command in his voice.

She halted and turned to face him, her expression guarded. "Ghost."

He approached, taking measured steps to close the distance between them. He stood before her, his gaze level with hers. The tension crackled between them, a silent war waged over unspoken words.

"You don't back down from a fight," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "And neither do I."

She held his gaze for a long moment, then turned on her heel and walked away without a word.

"I don't go without a fight. You know that Ghost, but right now, I am not in a mood." She turned around.

He trailed a step behind, a silent shadow. "You sure? Because I heard you say you're 'done'. You give up easily?"

She tensed, his question hitting a nerve. "I'm not giving up."

"Prove it." Challenging her, he stepped into her path, blocking her way.

She pushed him, "Trust me! You don't wanna fight me, Janaan. Because my bark is worse than my bite." She growled.

He caught her wrists, the contact electric, his touch a taunt.