#dasbinichwrites

The blow knocked all the air out of John's lungs. Darkness flashed across his vision."What distracted you?" Simon hissed directly into the breathless Scot's face.The lieutenant's eyes burned beneath the mask with a dark, primal fury."You almost took a bullet to the forehead, MacTavish. You almost got yourself killed because of your fucking lack of focus.""I... I hesitated..." John rasped, trying to pry the hand from his throat, but Simon's grip was iron."You were thinking about me."It wasn't a question.It was a fact, delivered with such heavy, possessive certainty that John wanted the ground to swallow him whole.Simon leaned his full weight into him, pinning him against the beam until John's bones creaked in protest. The lieutenant's kevlar-clad knee shoved roughly between his legs, striking the inside of his thigh."Your empty head was busy replaying how I fucked you while the enemy was lining up a shot," Ghost growled, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating rumble. "Do you have any idea what I would've done if your brains had ended up splattered across that concrete?"His fingers tightened around John's throat."You think it's your life, Johnny? You think you have the right to throw it away that carelessly after I claimed you as mine?"

What a monstrous, sick irony lay hidden in this moment.She was being driven to ecstasy by the tongue of a terrorist. The tongue of a killer who gave orders for mass executions. A man who drowned continents in rivers of other people's blood was now rapturously, like a gourmand, licking up the virgin blood of a nineteen-year-old college student, mixed with her sweet slickness. For him, there was no contradiction in this. He was a Player, and right now, he was claiming his most valuable trophy.