Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Rabid (dark smut)

It all started when he was sent to Dubai, tasked by Price to provide security for a business tycoon, an assignment he had little interest in, another rich bastard who needed protection from threats they'd never see coming.

He hated the damn place. Too garish and ostentacious. The opulent excess of the golden city was enough to make anyone lose their damn mind, him included, and god was it loud. Even in the quiet of the meeting room with the heavy oak doors shut, he could feel the damn music from next door thrum in his bones.
But a job is a job, and when Price asked you to guard a spoiled little rich kid with 'Daddy's money, he didn't hesitate, even if he wanted to.

He never had a soft spot for the rich. The world was cruel, and there was no shortage of wicked men out there, but he had to admit that for spoiled little brats, they were some of the worst. Never knowing any hardship, thinking that everything was owed to them. They were just as bad as crooked politicians, only less discreet at keeping their skeletons in the closet. Still, business was business, and he had a job to do. It was all about keeping up appearances, after all.

It was like that now, as he stood by the door, eyes lazily trailing over the room, and your bare legs tucked away into your leather chair. The white silk shirt you wore was tight around your form, and as his eyes followed the way you shifted, he caught a glimpse of a thin, lacy number underneath.
His gaze lingered a little longer and a little darker than it should, mind spinning with fantasies that he had no right to have.

The itch inside him was telling him to turn away, run as fast as he could, never to turn around and look at you, but the dark, twisted part, the beast which lurks beneath him, the one who comes out only when he has a bullet to fit between an enemy's eyes or an itch to scratch told him to strip you off bearing, to bring you to a verge that you had nowhere to run but to him.

It was all just so... wrong. Everything about it. But no matter how much he hated it, the thoughts were there, and the images in his head were not ones a man like him should be having. But he could no longer look away and pretend that they weren't there, not when he knew what he wanted.
And it was a goddamn shame he was a dog on a leash, because if he were a free man, he'd have you on the conference table in seconds.

And then you turn to face him. All pretty, prim, proper and perfect. Beautiful so much like the heavens have sent you down on earth with skin gleaming like gold. Like the innocent doe who never flew, but was ready to be caged, wings clipped.

He hates it, hates how pretty you are, how goddamn perfect that skin of yours is. And he's a damn bastard because all he wants is to ruin that perfection, spoil the innocence. But it was your eyes that really set him off, wide and clear, completely guileless to the animal he was.
That beautiful doe didn't even know the wolf was watching. He watched from the shadows as you smiled at him, friendly and cordial.

And boy oh boy, at that moment he decided, that he will possess you, destroy your facade until it crumbles the foundation of your existance, make you so weak for him that you will forget everything, just remember him. Make you only want him, made himself your need. The dark twisted side of him ate all the sense of marality, he wanted you at hisfeet, at his mercy at somepoint of his pathetic life.

He was so tired, so sick and tired of always doing the 'right thing', of always going by the damn book. He was sick of playing the good damn dog, of leashing his desires, of keeping that darkness that prowled underneath from surfacing.
And then you were there like something straight out of heaven, an angel of destruction who had come down to Earth just for him. You were so goddamn perfect, but you didn't even know it, and that only made the hunger inside him grow all the more. He wanted to have you. He had to have you.

He was fucked.

Completely and utterly.
For one night with you, he'd damn his soul to hell and back.
He'd kill for you, he'd do every disgusting, depraved thing you wanted, just to hold you in his arms.
It didn't even matter that you were a spoiled brat who had never known a day of hardship in your life.
What right did he have?
He was a damn guard dog, and you were a pampered little princess who had no idea what was coming. But the thing about dogs was that they could be trained. Trained to do things they would never do.