#simonrileysmut

you let out a giddy little laugh that makes him glance down, at that. it’s quick and brief, the way his eyes flick over you, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t stripped mid-hallway. it’s just the bickering that gets you. makes you warm inside.

“m’not that drunk,” you lie through your teeth with all the drunken confidence you possess. “i mean—i am, but not like…memory loss drunk. i’m still gonna remember how wide your shoulders are tomorrow.”

it’s only seconds after that and your fingers are moving again, crawling down his arm to where leather edge meets skin.

“..and how insanely big your hands are,” you sigh in continuation, unable to help yourself. “like—biblically destructive. ruin-her-life-in-a-single-night kind of hands. anyone ever tell y’that?”

and that might just be precisely when it starts - the feeling in his gut. brought to life through the filth you’re beginning to feed.

“don’t.” he says, and it’s torn. “not now.”

he’s all but begging you - and however miraculously, his pace doesn’t break. still steady as ever even as you switch from squeezing to tracing his tattoos with your finger. the only response he gives is a devastating clench of his jaw as he keeps you moving - steering past flickering lights and sterile walls.

“y’ever choke a girl out with them?” you press, unfettered. “not like, unconscious, but like. in bed?”

he exhales. slow. almost a growl.

“jesus. stop talkin’.”

“why?” you blink up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, far too innocent for someone who’s very much not being innocent. “am i makin’ you nervouuus?”

his head tilts just slightly, just enough to peer down at you again.

“no,” he says, and even drunk you hear the grit in it. “you’re makin’ me hard.”

he says it like he hates himself for it. like it slipped out - cut from the meat of some deep place the inebriation in his veins simply won’t let him keep inside.

and you?

you blink slow, lips parting in surprise.

“fuckin’ finally.” you exhale with a smile. slow and crooked and dangerous. “thought i’d have to be on my knees and naked for you to admit that—“

he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

“fuck’s sake, y’little minx.” he’s dragging you now, as if he’s realizing the dangers that are surfacing the more this conversation continues. by this point he’s half-carrying, half-hauling your giggling form down the hall like you weigh nothing. “y’need to stop talkin.”

“you like it,” you slur between unsteady steps. “y’like me like this cause you’re a freakkk—“

his grip tightens. morals in tatters. control evaporating.

“i’d like you more if y’were unconscious.” he huffs, hard. “or duct-taped.”

that makes you giggle more. worse, it eggs you on.

“was that supposed t’be a threat?” you ask, lips glistening. “cause if so, it’s workingggg.”

he grunts - some deep, violent sound in his throat like that one hit a nerve. “bloody hell.”

by the time you make it to your door, he’s breathing heavy. less from exertion and more from sheer fucking restraint. it takes two seconds before he throws the hinges wide, kicks it shut with his boot, and all but drags you onto your bed.

and you hardly even realize you’ve reached it until the cotton caresses the side of your cheek. but that feeling is quickly forgotten when simon, the gentleman that he is, leans over you - one knee braced on the mattress as his hands go to work on the laces of your boots.

your thighs tense. he notices.

“fuck, simon.” you can’t stop yourself. not even god himself could, at this point. “i’ve been into you for ages, y’know.”

he pauses. boot in hand.

“…what?”

he says it low. like a warning - like a don’t you fuckin start. but you’re too drunk to care - especially when all you smell is him and all you see are those shoulders, leaning over you while you’re flat on your back beneath him.

your lashes flutter.

“jus sayin- since, like. you’re in my room, on my bed above me like one of my codeine fever dreams.” you slur, brain sloshing. the room spins with it. “thought y’should know.”

he looks at you like you’ve hit him with a brick.

your head lolls. glassy eyes dragging up over the length of him. “used to think about it—you—when i couldn’t sleep.”

he swallows, and you watch his throat work with it. the grip he’s got on your ankle could shatter bone.

“….you tellin me y’think bout me when y’touch yourself?” he asks.

“god yes.” you don’t even realize you’ve said it. “you. your hands. bending me over the sinks. in the showers while muttering filth in my ear, tellin me to behave—“

“—fuck.” it punches out of him like it hurts.

the silence falls heavy. he doesn’t blink, breathe, or move for what feels like forty minutes, when in reality, it’s like forty seconds - just long enough for him clamp the leash back on whatever beast is tearing through him.

not fully, but enough.

you stretch like a cat, oblivious to it. arch your back. sigh. “d’you think about it?”

he doesn’t answer. not at first. then—

“only when i breathe.”

your stomach lurches. your thighs twitch. “you mean that?”

he looks at you, finally - eyes darker than the devils deal, filled with filth and heat from the fire you started without even trying.

he shakes his head, his jaw clenches with the effort of keeping the beast at bay. “i mean, if you don’t stop talkin, m’gonna fuckin’ fold.”

the alcohol in your blood just roars, at that. fuel to the flaming fire inside you.

“tell me.” you murmur. “you think about fucking me? what i’d sound like moaning your—“

before you can finish that thought, his hand is over your mouth. it swallows your face, makes you twitch in all the wrong places — and he sees it.

“enough.” it’s barely a whisper. “christ. fuck. you’re gonna make me do somethin’ stupid.”

you moan against his hand - it spills out of you, vibrates against his fingers. he curses.

“y’wanna know what stupid looks like?” he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. “you, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.”

his palm silences everything but your pulse, which is roaring, at this point.

your fingers come up, shift a few of his digits until your voice finds room to leak out. “please.”

his eyes snap shut.

“y’dont know what you’re askin for, sweet’eart,” he mutters, grabbing the edge of the blanket with his free hand and yanking it over your hips. “ain’t gonna wake up with you hatin me.”

even drunk you realize he’s a man of morals.

“you think i’d regret it?” you whisper. stars in your eyes. he doesn’t respond. “simon. i just told you i’ve fantasized about fucking you. i wonder how big you are, if it’d hurt—“

his palm tightens over your lips again.

“one more fuckin’ word and i’ll forget every goddamn reason why i shouldn’t touch you right now.” he spits. “if y’even remember this tomorrow, y’come say it to me sober. promise on every grave i’ve ever stood over i’ll bend y’over on the spot and fuck the idea of regret right outta you.”

then he pulls back, moving slow like it hurts, and you smile.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“When I showed up to my first unit I got the same, and the unit after that.” The two of you drink simultaneously.

“What? They ignored you?”

“No,” He chuckles softly. “My first unit, they held me down and branded me with a shite-looking coat of arms made from a wire clothes hanger.”

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand.

“What?! Where?!”

“My bum.”

You snort, “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.” You cover your face with your hands. His shoulders rise and fall with soft laughter.

“It is a little.”

“Did they ever get in trouble? Reprimanded?”

“Never told anyone, ran into them at my next unit and pummeled them into the ground.”

“Bravo!” You celebrate with your hands in the air. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Then I was disciplined for the beatin’ they got but it was worth it.”

“I agree, they had it coming.”

You take another gulp of your tea enjoying the spread of warmth inside of you.

“You’re quite fond of trouble.” He states flatly. You still, squinting at him in suspicion.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your files,” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Lengthy history of discipline, being reprimanded.”

You hum in response. “Is that the word on the street?”

He grins, his hand coming up to stroke his stubble before he sits back with his arms crossed looking at you. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I’ve gotten in trouble a couple of times in my career, what about it?”

“How long have you been in?”

“Five years.”

“You’re tellin’ me that you’ve been reprimanded nearly every single year you’ve been in?” He now leans on the table looking over at you with a dumbfounded look.

“Shit happens, I have no problem taking responsibility for it.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to cause trouble.”

“I’m not, I just don’t have the grace other people do. I do something stupid and get caught immediately.”

“You’re right about that. You’re a naughty one, for sure.” He says before downing the remaining liquid in his mug.

He smirks to himself letting his eyes roam over your shoulders.

"I heard that boyfriend of yours was a calvary bum." He pokes, changing the subject. 

You "tsk" at him. Once everyone found out about your now ex-boyfriend they never let you live it down.

"What's his job got to do with anything?"

Simon shrugs, feigning ignorance, “Assumed a woman like you preferred men, that’s all.”

“Oh, hush!” You bite back a laugh refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I bet he cried like a child at the thought of going to the field.”

“That’s enough out of you!” You reach over the table to cover his mouth. He fights you off taking your wrists in his hands. He stands and walks to your side of the table gently pulling up by the wrists. His massive frame takes most of your view, you can’t help but feel anxiety pool in your stomach having him tower over you.

“Poor bird, spendin’ her nights with half a man. Bet he didn’t have a clue what he was doin’.”

The warmth you felt from the tea was traveling up to your cheeks. He was so close you could smell the rich cologne in his skin. His hands were so rough but warm on your pulse. 

Your eyes focus on his lips.

“Did he?” The gravel of his voice makes a shiver run through your spine. You gulp before responding.

”He was… enthusiastic.”

Simon laughs hoarsely, “Enthusiastic?” He enunciates with a shit-eating grin.

”Why is my sex life a topic of conversation to my Lt.?” You suddenly get some courage.

”You think I haven’t noticed you droolin’ over me, love. Peakin’ at me from afar. Now you show up to my flat with your tits fallin’ out of your top, your bare ass out, and a broken heart from some lad not worth the air he breathes.” He drops his head forcing you to meet his eyes. “Quite the coincidence, innit?”

”I think it’s more of a happy coincid-“ He breaks your sentence off catching your lips with his. Your brain pushes you out of your frozen state and the two of you begin moving in unison. He slowly releases your wrists and moves his hands to your waist. Your hands run down his chest.

He deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips. You moan softly as his tongue plays with yours. He pulls you against him, one hand over yours on his chest the other at the small of your back. You feel lightheaded, not in a bad way, quite the opposite. You’d fantasized about your Lt. plenty of times, his touch, the scars he hid beneath his army green top, the way his lips felt - come to find out they were soft, unlike the rest of him. His hands keep setting you ablaze when they touch your skin, the callouses nearly make your eyes roll back.

He growls into the kiss, tearing himself away from you. His arms wrap around the back of your thighs and you grab onto his shoulders. He lifts and places you on the table, forcing himself between your legs. He bites at your neck, pulling you into him. You grip the table feeling as if you could slide off at any second. 

He eats up every single gasp he gets out of you. His teeth graze your collar bone and he sucks on the sensitive skin. Your nails run over his scalp down to the back of his neck drawing a groan from him.

He stops for a moment to let you catch your breath.

”You want this, love?” He leans his forehead against yours looking into your eyes.

“God, yes!” You exasperate. 

He chuckles, still looking into your eyes.

”Hold on.”

”What do you-“ 

You squeal as he lifts you off the table and rushes to wrap your arms around his neck. You rest your head on his neck relishing in the feeling of his body against yours. Warmth radiated off of him like a furnace, the feel of his skin so addictive.

He carries you to the couch placing his knee on the cushions before gently placing you on your back. He follows you down and your hands run down his bare back.

He supports himself with one arm, the other trails down to your aching core, cupping the mound. He lets out a ragged breath once he feels the heat burning through you. He moves to pull your shorts off, dragging them up your legs and tossing them off to the side.

”Fuckin’ hell,” He groans at the sight of your bare pussy. “Such a bad girl walking around without knickers.”

He gives you one last hypnotizing kiss before brushing his lips in between your breasts. He kisses each one and carries on down your stomach and lands right above your clit.

You panic inside, you prop yourself up on your elbows, “Lt.”

”Fuck’s sake, love. As much as I love hearin’ you call me that, say my name, will you?” He laughs light-heartedly. You smile behind your hand trying not to break out in giggles. 

“What is it?” His eyebrows pull together.

”You don’t have to do that if you don’t want.”

”Eat you out?” He looks at you confused.

You nod slowly, embarrassed at the question.

He “Tsks” at you lowering himself once again while muttering something along the lines of, “Calvary muppet took the fun out of pussy, didn’t he?”

”I’m serious! You don’t have to!” You spit out frantically.

“Shut up, doll.”

He licks a stripe up your cunt and moans softly to himself. Your lips part in disbelief. He slowly laps at your clit and you lower yourself onto your back. He decides not to work you too fast yet, scared you’d pass out after being neglected by that dumb bloke for so long. 

You whine softly, legs already shaking. He wraps his arms around your thighs and presses them against his head.

He gently sucks on your clit and your hand shoots down to his head. The feeling of you tugging one his short locs encourages him to speed up. His lips wrap around your clit and toys with it as he pleases. The pace causes you to clamp your thighs around his head on your own.

Moans pour from your lips as your back arches. His hands stroke your thighs as you restrain yourself from pushing his head down further.

”Simon! Oh god!” Your mouth hangs open. You look down at him and nearly orgasm seeing him between your legs. His eyes are blown out, his thumb caresses your skin.

He lets go of one thigh and his fingers tap at your entrance gathering your wetness. He pushes two of his fingers inside you and your head falls back. Your vision goes fuzzy and you clamp your eyes shut. His fingers pump into you hitting your g-spot each time.

Your hand flies to your mouth and you let out a high-pitched moan. You chant his name tightening around his fingers. He feels your walls clamp down and continues pumping letting you ride it out. Your hips twitch, your thighs trap him where he is. 

He waits until you go limp to pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

”Fuck, you made a mess.” He groans. He climbs above you and peppers your face with kisses. “Was that alright, love?” 

You open your eyes to meet his, all you can do is nod unable to trust yourself to talk. He smirks at you, proud of himself for leaving you in such a state.

”You think you can take me, love, or do you need some time?”

”Want you so bad,” You whine out.

He lowers his head for a chaste kiss and pulls himself up onto his feet. He drops his sweats revealing the thick muscle of his thighs. His cock slaps his thigh as he throws his sweats onto the floor, the weight of it keeping it down. Your eyes meet his member and a wave of nervousness comes over you. His length was impressive but the thickness was your biggest concern. 

“Hey! You weren’t wearing underwear either, hypocrite!”

He rolls his eyes at you with a smile. A sight so beautiful you can’t help but smile back.

He takes his earlier position above you and aligns himself with your entrance. He looks up at you and you feel his tip poking into you already.

”Ready, doll?”

You nod at him.

”Say it.” He whispers.

”I-I’m ready.”

”Alright then.” He nudges your forehead with his before the two of you look down to watch the sinful show of him slowly sliding into you. You gasp, hands going to his back. He moves at a snail’s pace letting you adjust as he goes. He cradles your head, forehead against yours trying to keep his breathing steady.

”Ah, tight little thing.” He rasps out.

Your mouth hangs open, your nails digging into his skin, legs hugging his waist once he fills you to the hilt. He waits a moment before slowly sliding out halfway and bringing himself back to the same depth. Your whines draw out. His tip hits the deepest parts of you so well that you nearly begin drooling.

He examines your face for any sign of discomfort before nudging your neck with his nose. He begins with a moderate pace as he kisses along your jaw. You wrap your arms around him, fingers running over the buzzed hair at the back of his head. 

The stretch from his cock stings slightly, the overwhelming pleasure sending tingles through your bones making it hard to notice. He continues rocking his hips into yours letting you enjoy the feel of him without anything too overwhelming. You mewl into his ear as he stretches you over and over.

”Fuck, so good,” You whine.

His hand comes down to grip your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, circling it gently. He slides his legs up kneeling with you in between his thighs. He stops, letting you catch your breath and he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He suckles the nub, playing with it with his warm tongue. He thumbs your clit as he treats the nub like a candy. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you down onto his cock, dragging you down the cushions fucking you onto him for a while. 

He angles his hips to hit all the right places, your cunt throbs around him when he hits your g-spot head on causing you to gasp.

”Oh fuck! Right there!” Your hands cling onto his forearms for dear life as he goes on to hit the spot repeatedly until it nearly hurts. His pubic bone rubs against your clit with every thrust. He picks up his pace, throttling that poor little sensitive spot. Your back arches painfully. He takes advantage of it and throws his hand under your waist keeping you in the position swinging you down to meet his thrusts.

He stuffs you with his cock relentlessly. You become a mess beneath him struggling to get words out, just high-pitched moans filling the room.

”God! Oh god!” 

“He’s not here, love. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” He orders.

The feeling grows inside you pulling the air from your lungs. He nips the skin below your breasts and licks a stripe between them to your neck. Your pussy flutters around him before you fall deep into euphoria, his name pours from you. Your ears ring and eyes wire themselves shut as you clamp down around him. Tears pour from your eyes involuntarily. 

The sequence of flutters pulls him back into you making it too difficult to pull out too far. He buries his head in your chest as he’s pulled over the edge. He moans into your skin as your body sucks him back in, milking him so hard he blinks trying to rid himself of the fog. He begins spilling into you, his white hot streams shooting out at high velocity. He paints your walls so thoroughly that you feel his cock twitching with every spasm. 

His cum spills out of you not having any more room to fill. You gush around him and he quietly gasps. 

The two of you stay like this for what could’ve been an eternity. The post-orgasmic haze engulfs the both of you. He keeps himself inside and lowers himself onto his side, dragging you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He pulls you into his sweaty heaving chest and kisses your forehead. 

He feels a wetness on his thumb and pulls back, wiping away your tears.

”What’s happened, Y/n?” He asks, concerned. “Did I hurt you?” He moves to pull himself out of you and you grab him, bringing him to a stop. “You’re crying, love.”

”That was amazing.” You mumble, eyes struggling to open.

”You cryin’ because it was good?” He laughs, a big goofy smile plasters itself on his face. You force your eyes open to peek at him. 

“You smile so pretty.”

He pulls you back to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you.

”Thank you, love.” You could still hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up and put to bed, yeah?”

”Too sleepy.” You complain.

”It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” Against your protests, he lifts himself slowly and positions himself to pull out of you. He gives you a single nudge with his cock still sheathed and you nearly purr. 

He pulls out slowly.

”Jesus, I’m gonna need a new couch.” He mutters. His cum spills from you, his eyes glued to your core watching it slowly pour out. His cock twitches and he has to look away. There was no way you were in shape for another round. Thankfully the memory was burned into his mind - the best thing he’d ever seen, next to you of course. 

He lets you know he’ll be back and you hear water rushing down the hall. He returns moments later and slides his hands under you.

”Bath time,” He says in a sing-song-y voice. You giggle, lacing your fingers behind his neck. He lifts you in his arms and looks into your eyes. “You were wonderful.” He pecks your lips and carries you off to his bathroom placing you in the bathtub before sliding in behind you.

”I don’t have a hair tie but I’ll try with some string,” He says mostly to himself. The warm water only reaches your belly button, once he slides behind you it rises a few inches. He wraps your hair into a funny-looking bun and ties it with the piece of string he found.

” Ta-da.” 

“Thank you, Simon.” You say sweetly leaning back against him. He holds you against him and you feel something poke into your back.

”Sorry, love. It’ll go down, I don’t expect you to stay awake long enough for another one.”

You moan in response and sigh letting the water nearly lull you to sleep. 

“Wait,” you breathe out. “Does me saying your name turn you on?”

He doesn’t respond. You try to look up at him but he tightens his hold not wanting you to see the red spawning over his face.

”Siiiiimon”

”Oh, hush.” He imitates your voice.

”Hey!”

He grabs his loofa and begins lathering you in bubbles.

”C’mon, I wanna get you in bed before you fall asleep.”

He cleans every bit of you, focusing on your breasts because no matter how much he denied it at that moment, he was still a dog. He hands you a bath bomb that he saved in case he ever had a special someone stay over and let you watch it fizz up as he cleans himself.

He dries you off and plops you down on his massive bed wearing his t-shirt. By the time he throws on his boxers you’re fast asleep under the covers, engulfed in his scent.

He slides next to you pulling you into his arms. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and whispers into your hair, “You’re mine now, doll. All mine.”

“Y-you’re putting me in a weird p-position, Lieutenant.” Mykie didn’t know what to say, she wanted to say yes, but she was scared and wanted to say no. What would this do to their bond as teammates, what would this do to her mentally, and what could this do to the team? Mykie’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. 

“Mykie, you can say no. If I scared you, I’m sorry.” Ghost responded, leaning back a little. 

Mykie shook her head quickly. “G-Ghost…I have no issues with this, I just…” She trailed off not being able to make eye contact with Ghost. 

Ghost chuckled. “I won’t harm you if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I…um…also didn’t expect this…from you. The others hit on me all the time. I know they’re always joking but, I don’t think you’re joking…and you’ve never talked t-to me like this.” Mykie struggled to find the right words. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t usually talk like this. And I’ve never spoken to any female that’s been on the team like this.” Ghost chuckled more. 

“W-would the mask come off?” Mykie asked as she focused on breathing. 

“No. Unless you really want it to.”

“It can say…” Mykie said, slowly realizing she basically just agreed to have sex with the top of this team, the scariest of them all. Her Lieutenant. 

“Is that a yes, Mykie? I need to hear an actual ‘yes’. I won’t act on anything without consent.” Ghost questioned. 

Mykie nodded her head slowly. 

“I need to hear it. This isn’t me teasing you.” Ghost enforced. 

“Y-yes…” Mykie stuttered, her eyes were closed, and any confidence that started to come back quickly left again. “Why me?”

“Good question, I think because you’re the first to really try to talk to me. Not like Soap does. Soap jokes around, but we’ve never been personal before. No one has cried in my arms.” Ghost admitted. “You made me feel different than I usually do. And after watching you almost get killed, while I sat waiting, not being able to see what was happening in that room, hearing you swear at them, then the gunshot, hearing you in pain, it made me feel something different.” Ghost sighed. “It’s weird for me too…”

“I…I’m shocked.” Myke straightened her back. 

“You and me both.” Ghost looked Mykie in the eyes. Mykie looked away quickly, the blush coming back, this time in full force. 

“How about I be a man of my word?” Ghost asked as he took a step closer, he held out his hand for her to take. 

They continued their short walk to Mykie’s room, “Why my room?” Mykie asked as she pulled out her keycard. 

“We can go to mine if you’d like, I just don’t usually let people in.” 

Mykie pushed open her door, nodding her head, “This is fine.” 

Ghost lightly pushed Mykie further into her room. “Ghost…I should tell you…I’ve never done this…before.” Mykie admitted.

“I’ll take it slow. I promise.” Ghost informed as he pulled the black baklava up over his nose, bits of his dirty blonde hair were visible now at the nape of his neck. He slowly walked her back to the bed, she felt the bed hit the back of her knees and sat. 

“Blonde…” Mykie mumbled as she looked up at him in awe. 

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes I even forget I have blonde hair.” Ghost chuckled. “May I?” He asked as he held out a hand near her cheek. It was her bruised cheek. 

“Carefully, that’s…that’s where they hit me.” Mykie closed her eyes, ready to feel pain. His hand lightly caressed her cheek. She didn’t feel any pain, he was so surprisingly gentle. His hand retreated, he pulled off his gloves and continued to hold her cheek. Mykie kept her eyes closed, scared she might run if she opened them. She could feel a light amount of heat coming closer to her lips, and soon after, soft and warm lips touched hers lightly. Mykie reached out in front of her, finding his chest. She pulled her hand back for a moment before reaching out again, she gripped a small fist full of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Slow down there, lovie.” Ghost chuckled as he parted from the kiss. Mykie let out a quiet whimper. “I heard that.” 

“S-sorry.” Mykie blushed even harder, she pulled her head and arms closer to herself. 

“No need to be sorry, love. I just want to take it slow, for you.” 

Mykie shook her head, she wanted him closer. She opened her eyes slowly, he was a lot closer than she expected. His face was only inches from hers. She locked eyes with him, noticing how beautiful his eyes really were. 

“Up on the bed, now.” Ghost demanded. 

“I-I don’t think I can move. M-my shoulder, I can’t put weight on this arm.” Mykie informed him as she rubbed her left shoulder. 

Ghost nodded, he scooped his arms under her legs and behind her back, he picked her up with no resistance. Ghost gently placed her higher up on the bed, her back against her pillow and her legs out in front of her. “Comfortable?” 

Mykie nodded her head. “Thanks, sorry you had to do that.” 

“You’re not used to letting people do things for you, are you? I saw how you acted when the boys rescued you.” Ghost guessed. 

“N-no. I had to do pretty much everything for myself.” 

“Not tonight. Just sit back and let me take the wheel, ya?” Ghost said as he climbed up on the bed and kneeled in front of her. 

“I-I can try.” Mykie nodded, and she closed her eyes again, the sight of him kneeling before her was too much to handle.

“May I touch?” Ghost asked as he hovered. 

Mykie nodded her head again. She could feel his rough fingers trace the hem of her camo sweats. He hooked two fingers into the hem and pulled down. Mykie lifted her hips up just a little to help him slip them over her butt. 

“Fuck.” Ghost mumbled under his breath. 

Mykie was already wet and the evidence was staring Ghost in the face. 

“What did it for ya? The mask? My voice? My demands?” Ghost asked, his breath clearly taken away by the sight in front of him. 

“A-all of the above…” Mykie struggled to answer. 

He let out a deep chuckle. “Legs up.” Ghost demanded. 

Mykie lifted her legs lightly, Ghost gripped the top of her underwear and pulled them down swiftly. “Jesus. Fuck.” Ghost sighed, he placed her legs up on his shoulder. 

“It’s been far too long for me, you are a sight to behold, Mykie.” Ghost complemented, his accent thick. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“I am, please Ghost, just move.” Mykie wiggled. 

“So impatient, just hold still lovie.” Ghost chuckled, he lowered himself down so his mouth was level with her entrance. Ghost stuck his tongue out, making contact with her lips. He let out a low moan, sending vibrations into Mykie’s core. 

“Oh fuck.” Mykie cursed out as she pushed her legs together. 

“Uh uh, keep 'em open.” Ghost mumbled against her core. 

Mykie struggled to keep her legs open, he hardly just started but the feeling was sending waves through her whole body already. Ghost started flicking his tongue against her clit. He would suck and lap at her sensitive bud. When he did, she could feel her legs shake even more. 

“I-I don’t kn-now how much l-longer I can l-last, Ghost.” Mykie stuttered. The sensation was pushing her to the edge, fast. 

“Just a little longer, I want more of a taste.” Ghost said as he plunged his tongue into her entrance. Mykie bucked her hips. Her back arched. He quickened his pace, thrusting his tongue in and out. The mask lifted up and his nose brushed her clit.

“Oh f-fuck. Ghost, I-I’m close already.” 

“Okay, okay.” Ghost sighed softly as he pulled his head from between her legs. She could see her juices glistening on his chin and lips. Ghost wiped away the mess before crawling over her. 

“You can still back out.” Ghost offered. 

“W-why, are you th-that big, you th-think I’ll r-run?” Mykie was trying to play it cool. Her breathing hadn’t slowed just yet. 

Ghost chuckled softly, “No, but what we are about to do is personal, you can still tell me no.” He reassured her.

“I-I still want this…” Mykie trailed off, her voice was low. 

Ghost smirked, and slowly reached for the hem of her tank top. He began pulling it up, her scar was fully visible. Mykie tried to hide it with her hands. Ghost softly pushed her hands away and over her head. “There’s no shame in the scar Mykie, look.” Ghost pulled his own shirt up and over his head. His chest was peppered with scars, some really deep and others just a graze. “See? We all carry our own scars.” 

Mykie examined his chest, she ran her hands over the scars. He had one particularly larger scar across his left pec. “These look like knife wounds.”

“You’d be correct. Most of them are from knives. Got in some pretty heated fights.” Ghost informed her. 

Mykie could see the muscles in his arms tense when she touched him more. She trailed her eyes down his whole chest till her eyes fell upon his jeans. He was noticeably hard. Mykie dropped her one hand back above her head, her other laid at her side. Ghost took this as a sign, he continued to lift her tank top over her head. She too had more scars. Small ones that peppered her shoulders and her chest. 

“Lift up a little.” Ghost ordered, Mykie lifted her back off the bed slightly, just enough for Ghost’s hand to slither underneath and unclasp her bra. He wasted no time placing his lips on her breasts. Mykie arched her back at the contact. 

He snaked his other hand along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to her heat once more. Slowly, and carefully, Ghost slipped one finger inside. She let out a gasp as she bit her lip. He pumped inside of her a few times before adding another finger. He moved in and out quickly while his thumb rubbed at her clit. 

Moans slipped from Mykie’s mouth. She clasped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her moans. She didn’t need the rest of the squad hearing her moans. 

Her legs began to shake, another wave was washing over her, and she was close. But before she could let him know, he pulled his fingers from her and popped off her breast. Ghost sat up on his knees which were straddled on either side of Mykie’s legs. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

“Are you still sure?” Ghost asked one last time. 

Mykie, who was watching in anticipation, quickly nodded her head, “If you ask that again, I’m gonna start begging.” Mykie huffed, she was still exhausted from her last stolen high. “You’ve robbed me of two orgasms now, Ghost. Don’t make me start begging.” 

“Is that so?” Ghost asked, a smirk playing on his lips.  “Beg.”

Mykie let out a soft whimper as Ghost undid his pants fully and dropped them around his hips, he wasted no time in pulling his black boxers down with them. He sprang free, very clearly hard and ready to go. “Oh f-fuck…” Mykie mewled. 

“I-I don’t have any condoms. Not even in my room.” Ghost pulled back from her a little. 

“It’s not foolproof but I am on the pill,” Mykie reassured. 

“Perfect.” Ghost snarled as he dropped himself over her, he held up his weight as he hovered over her. He practically engulfed her small frame with his body. 

Mykie looked up at him with pleading eyes. “P-please. Don’t make me b-beg. J-just do it.” 

“As you wish.” Ghost didn’t hesitate lining his cock up with her entrance. He was huge, bigger than any toy she had used before. “Ready?”

Mykie nodded her head quickly, she wrapped her good arm around his neck and pulled his head closer to hers. Just as she attached her lips to his, he pushed inside her, inch by inch. Mykie gasped against his lips. Ghost stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust. It wasn’t until Mykie started wiggling her hips, that he started thrusting. He started off slow, making sure she was comfortable, watching her breathing with each thrust. 

“Faster…please…” Mykie begged softly against his lips. 

Ghost moaned his response as he picked up the speed. He was moving quickly, keeping a steady pace as he thrust into her. Both let moans spill out against each other's lips as they both reached their high. 

“I-I’m…n-not gonna…cum in you. N-not this time…” Ghost said in-between huffs and pants. 

“Th-this time?” Mykie asked as she also began panting. 

“Y-you…oh f-fuck…heard me.” Ghost was reaching his own high. “Cum, cum when y-you’re…ready,” Ghost said in-between grunts and moans. 

Mykie began to tighten around him, her legs wrapped around his hips tightly. Her nails dug into his back and neck as she hit her climax. “Fuck fuck…oh my god…” Mykie moaned out as she came.

Ghost continued thrusting, riding out Mykie’s high. As soon as she relaxed he could feel his end nearing. He quickly pulled out, releasing his hot seed onto her tummy. “F-fuck. I-I’m sorry.” He said through more huffs. 

“It’s o-okay.” Mykie giggled.  “There’s some tissues on the nightstand.” She was still trying to calm her breathing. 

“Let me.” Ghost said as he reached for the tissues. After cleaning her up, he pulled his pants up and pulled the black baklava back over his mouth. 

“Could you…could you grab me one of the t-shirts hanging up in my closet?” Mykie asked as she pulled her arm over her breast, now feeling exposed.  Ghost didn’t hesitate to grab her the shirt she requested. 

“That’s a little big for you, don’t you think?” Ghost chuckled as he handed her the shirt. 

“The bigger the shirt, the more comfortable I am.” Mykie put the shirt on carefully. 

After some more aftercare, Ghost finally spoke up. “I’m going to sneak back to my room tonight, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” Ghost lifted his baklava just enough for his jawline and lips to be exposed. He planted a light kiss on her cheek before leaving the room. 

and of course it only gets worse when you finally make it to your feet - teeth brushed twice after two whole water bottles and a shower hot enough to burn the devil out of hell - and notice something silver glinting on the table by your door that most definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning.

“oh…god.” your heart flips up into your throat.

his dog tags.

you’ve known simon long enough to know what this is. he didn’t forget them. he didn’t misplace them. he left them there to tell you he heard every fuckin word you said and he’s not letting you off the hook for it. it’s a test. if you meant it - which you did - you’ll bring them to him. you’ll say it to him sober like he asked.

a man of morals. who knew war criminals had it in them.

you spend what has to be a full ten minutes just staring at them - like maybe you’re still drunk, maybe you’re seeing things and they’ll vanish if you focus hard enough. maybe you can unsay every devastatingly honest thing you said with sheer mental fortitude alone and they’ll magically fly back to him on their own.

spoiler alert: they don’t move. because of course they don’t. and it takes another ten before you finally stuff them into your pocket.

it’s probably best to just rip the bandaid off. bring them to him before you have to face him infront of the others in mess or briefing - damage control before the rest of the world finds out about the stunt you pulled. you don’t even know what you’re going to say - sorry? thanks? let’s just pretend i never told you i fantasize about fucking you when i can’t sleep?

fuck. it doesn’t matter. you know you owe him the return. a peace offering, a penance, a silent white-flag kind of knock on his door.

and so you walk the hall like it’s the green mile. you’ve never done a walk of shame but you imagine this has got to be as close as it comes. his door is shut when you reach it, and you stand in front of it like a coward for another unnecessary amount of time - complexion almost ill. ghostly. like you could float right through the fuckin wood if the wind blew hard enough.

finally, you knock.

it’s a moment, and then he answers, filling his doorframe with those thick shoulders stretching a tight black t-shirt, looking right as rain besides damp hair and bloodshot eyes.

you wonder, fleetingly, if he even slept. but then his gaze drops over the length of you and you busy yourself with fighting the urge to run for your fucking life.

you clear your throat. “can i..uh. can we talk?”

he nods and pops the door open, gesturing for you to come in. you take a few steps into his room - dark, organized, rather sparse - and nearly jump out of your flesh when the door shuts behind you. the click of a cell door closing, announcing your sealed fate.

you spin to face him once his boots have stopped dragging across the tiles, and find him leaning back against his desk - ankles and arms crossed.

you swallow, and pull the tags from your pocket. “i um. i think you forgot these.”

his brow twitches, barely, as he takes a glance at your hand. a flash of something behind his eyes you can’t name.

“did i?” he doesn’t move.

you shift your weight. the mortification could eat you alive. you’re certain it currently is.

“figured i’d bring them back.” you add, quieter now, trying your fucking hardest to sound normal. like you didn’t just spend the night saying all kinds of unholy things into the palm of his hand. “incase…uh, you were looking for them.”

he still doesn’t take them.

“strange,” his lips tilt. the first sign he’s shown that he's enjoying this. “coulda sworn i left em’ somewhere on purpose.”

your stomach flips. you try to laugh but it’s brittle. “right. sure.”

he shrugs. “not the kinda thing i usually misplace.”

you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you think it might bleed, unsure how to respond to that. it’s hard to even breathe with the way he’s watching you - like he’s taking notes - reading everything you’re not saying in the line of your mouth, in the way your fingers tremble around the chain of his tags.

“shaky this mornin, yeah?” he says, just casually knocking the rest of the wind out of your chest.

“i-“

you falter, because what the fuck are you even supposed to say? no, i’m fine. i’m totally good, actually. i definitely didn’t spend all morning curled fetal, praying to gods who’ve certainly damned me for a head injury so i can forget the mental car crash that was last nights events.

simon waits, eyes blazing like you’re a twitchy little experiment. trying to see which wire makes you spark the hardest.

you clear your throat. try again. “m’just tired.”

“mm.” he hums with a lazy nod. “musta been all that talkin you were doin.”

and there it is. here it comes.

“can’t really remember, but i’m sure it’s part of it.” you lie with a forced laugh. lie so awkwardly it hurts. “tequila. you know how it is.”

“do i ever.” he replies, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

silence stretches thick, after that. it’s so thick it makes the walls feel closer, the floor feel further away. you avert your gaze, and realize almost immediately how big of a mistake that is because the motion pulls your eyes across his forearm - his bare, inked forearm, tendons flexing with the movement he’s making.

you remember that arm last night, wrapped tight around your waist. pulling you close before you moaned god yes and please beneath the big hand attached to it like fucking gospel.

when you flinch, he smirks. not even pretending like he didn’t notice. “y’remember nothin from last night, then?”

your eyes snap up to his. you hate yourself for the fact that all of last nights confidence seems to be no where in fucking sight.

“well, uh, it’s fuzzy but…i remember bits.”

“bits.” he echos. nodding. “yeah. must be a shame.”

oh god.

“shame?”

“shame t’forget all that detail.” he lets the words sink in, watching your face as he leans a hand on the desk behind him. “pretty interestin things. real deep. could write a bloody novel, the way y’were goin on.”

“oh.” you choke, again, and mentally slap yourself. get it together. “well. thats-“

he hums again. “suppose i could walk y’through it.”

“walk me-“

earth tilts. he doesn’t let you finish. “y’know. help piece it together. fill in the gaps.”

“you don’t-you don’t have to-“

he lifts a hand to gesture vaguely toward his bed. your pulse races to the moon.

“your room, y’were right there. lookin at me like i was gonna eat y’alive.” his voice lowers. you swallow and it tastes like sin. his finger shifts to the space before his bed. pointing at the edge. “and i was right there, tryin’ like hell t’be a fuckin gentleman.”

you could laugh, maybe cry, or just absolutely combust right there on the floor because it all floods back in an instant. the way you moaned his name when he knelt over you to undo your boots. the way your thighs tensed as you told him you think about him. the way you stared at him while your brain short circuited and your mouth betrayed every secret you thought you’d die with.

part of you did die, you suppose. the part with your dignity. right there on the floor of your room, next to your boots he took off.

“look, simon-“

he steps closer now. just a step. “y’said you’d been into me for ages.”

you blink, holding your breath.

“said y’think bout me when y’cant sleep.” his voice is a rasp now, the muscle in his jaw ticks. “i asked y’a question, then. d’you remember it?”

fucking hell.

“yes.” you exhale.

“what was it.”

your heart is a jackhammer, breaking through your sternum.

“you-you asked if i think about you when…” you hesitate, and he cocks an eyebrow. “…when i touch myself.”

“yeah.” he says lowly. a breath, not a word. “tha’s right.”

your skin is burning and your limbs feel foreign, at this point. you feel nerve endings pulsing in place you didn’t know you even had nerves.

“d’you remember your answer?” he continues, taking another step toward you.

and it’s then that the anxiety takes over - you blink twice and bite down until you taste blood, shaking your head no. not because you’ve forgotten - fucking hell you remember everything - but because saying it out loud feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

he doesn’t buy it.

“mm, sure y’do.” he calls your bluff, says it so soft it’s almost a coo. “y’know i know your tells - two blinks while bitin the inside of your cheek.” his eyes gleam as his lips twitch. “y’can’t lie t’me, princess.”

christ, you can’t help but laugh at that. it’s exactly the reason why you’ve been into him - he’s perceptive and cunning and cocky all at once.

this is the man you’ve thought about fucking for months.

“yes.” you whisper in admittance. “i said yes.”

“god yes.” he corrects with another step until he’s so close you have to kink your neck back to meet his eyes. his shoulders swallow the edges of your vision until all you see is him. “…still true?”

you nod. a broken thing. “yes.”

“yeah?” his head tilts, the heat of him sweltering. “y’think bout me when y’put hands on yourself?”

“simon-“

he hushes you with a shake of his head, eyes dipping to your lips. “tell me.”

it’s then that you realize dragging this on is for nothing. whatever drunken confession you made last night clearly cracked open whatever restraint simon’s been exercising for months.

clearly whatever you feel, he’s feeling it too.

“yes.” you confess, as firm as you possibly can. nothing coy in it now. “yes, i think about you when im alone. when i touch myself…doesn’t even feel right unless im picturing you. your hands. touching me.”

it all comes out of you in a rushed whisper, desperate and dripping sweet from your lips like it’s been saturating behind your teeth for too long. when he doesn’t respond right away, you realize you’ve stunned him, and pull on whatever courage you have left to press forward.

“i’ve wanted you for so long ive stopped tryin to figure out when it started.” you murmur, lost in his eyes. “and you?”

his breath catches. just the faintest hitch, like he wasn’t prepared for the edge of your honesty to turn and face him instead. it’s delectable, the slight composure tilt, but it doesn’t last long. because slowly - slowly, his mouth curls into something wrecked. something that says fuckin hell, it’s on.

his knuckles come up to graze your jaw, he lowers his head until his lips find your ear—

“y’askin if i think bout you when i’ve got my fist wrapped round my cock?” you inhale sharply, then choke on it when his mouth brushes your lobe. “course i fuckin do.”

your hands lift timidly to find his shirt, curling into it, dog tags still clinking between your fingers.

“y’think i haven’t been losin sleep over you?” he continues, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “think i didn’t cum with your name in my mouth last night, after you begged so nice n pretty f’me to fuck y’senseless?”

your lashes flutter. his free hand slips around your waist. “fuck, simon-“

“i know, sweet’eart.” he murmurs it, almost gentle, like it’s something you share. “tha’s what y’need, ain’t it? f’me to admit you’re not the only one losin mind here.”

you nod, partly frantic and partly delirious, and he exhales something strained - something from somewhere deep, catching on the parts of him dying to stay patient.

“good.” his hand slides up the back of your shirt, while the other finds the one of yours still holding his tags. “y’really come here just to return these, then?”

“no.” it chokes out of you instantly, mouth tilting toward his. “you wanted me to say it to you sober. made a promise bout what you’d do if i did?”

something feral flashes over his face, at that. translated through the grip he tightens on your waist, the exhale he washes over your jaw.

“yeah.” he says, tight. “i did.”

his mouth is barely a breath from yours.

“well here i am. sober.” you whisper. “wanting you more than i did while drunk.”

he makes a sound you’ve never heard before. not a groan, not a moan, something deep and feral punched straight out of his chest.

“fuckin hell.”

and then he’s kissing you.

no more waiting, no more games. simon’s a man of his word and it shows in the way his mouth crashes into yours - hungry and bruising and impatient - teeth knocking, one hand fisting in the back of your shirt and tearing it off you while the other pulls you in. he spins you both so your ass hits the edge of his desk, and then breaks away - trailing spit slick lips down your jaw and throat, thick fingers working to tease the band of your sweats.

“tell me where y’want me, sweet’eart.” he growls into your pulse.

you blink, dazed. “i-what?”

his teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, before his mouth drags back up beside your ear - ruinous in the inflection.

“tell me how you’ve imagined it,” his finger tips slide under your waistband, just teasing. “what you’ve pictured when you’re thinkin’ of me like this. right ‘ere.”

“oh god, simon.” you moan by his words alone, too wound to be embarrassed, fingers cinched tight in the fabric of his shirt. “your-your fingers. your mouth. your cock-“

that sound again. deep and devastated. restraint being ripped out by the roots.

“fuck. filthy thing f’me, aren’t you?” he says, as two fingers slide lower, slipping under heat soaked fabric and finding your slit, pressing in no further than they need to before circling back up - spreading the mess you’ve made just to feel it. “you’re fuckin soaked.”

you whimper as he teases your clit. his mouth finds your throat again, teeth grazing where your pulse stutters wild beneath flushed skin. you don’t trust your legs to hold you upright under the weight of it all - his touch, his voice, the feral gleam in his eye when he looks at you like you’re some prophecy being fulfilled.

“s’this what i do t’you?” he murmurs. “just from talkin t’you like this?”

you nod, a frantic little thing. “yes-god, yes.”

he exhales hard like it's kicked out of him, tugging your sweats down until they slide off your ankles before he lifts you back onto his desk and parts your thighs with hands so big they nearly span the entire width of them.

you fucking moan at the sight.

and of course it only fuels him - braces you back on your elbows, spine arched, breath caught in your throat as he steps in close between your legs. his eyes drag down to where you glisten in the dim light - slick, flushed, waiting - and he lets out a curse before returning his fingers to your aching cunt.

he presses in one digit slow, then adds another. knuckle deep until your eyes roll, hips jerking at the stretch.

“oh, fuck-“

he hisses through his teeth. “tight little cunt. fuckin meltin f’me.”

his thumb catches your clit in the same motion - rubbing soft circles, pushing you closer, dragging you toward the edge with every brutal curl of his fingers inside you.

“that feel good?” he growls against your jaw. “touched y’self in bed thinkin bout me between your thighs like this?”

you’re panting now. shaking.

“i-“ you gasp. “yes, simon-yes-“

“yeah?” his thumb speeds up, his fingers pump deeper, your head spins. “and did y’cum like this? like you’re about to f’me now?”

you don’t answer fast enough. he bites at your jaw.

“tell me.”

“no-n-never like this—”

he growls something vile under his breath. “poor thing. s’okay. i’ve got you.”

your walls flutter around him, your thighs shaking where they frame his hips, and he feels it - feels the beginning of the end stutter through you.

“simon-“ you whinge.

he cuts you off. “look at me.”

you do. barely.

“tha’s it,” he breathes. “cum on my fuckin fingers. show me what i’ve been missin.”

you’re starved for it, beyond saving, and its only a couple more deep pumps before you break.

it floods through you - white hot and searing. you cry out his name as you clamp around his digits, trembling apart on his desk while he watches you like you’re art - jaw clenched, pupils blown - his fingers still moving, dragging you through it until you’re sobbing into his shoulder.

“there we go.” when it passes and you’re limp, blinking up at him stunned - he withdraws slowly. “attagirl. s’fuckin good.”

you swallow, watching wide eyed as he brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“been dreamin bout that taste, knew it’d be sweet.” he purrs as he leans down, wiping his spit slick digits over your cheek. “gonna need it proper soon.”

you don’t even have time to question or respond to that, because then he’s unbuckling his belt.

when you finally look back up, his eyes are wild.

“s’this what y’want?” he murmurs, tugging leather through loops before undoing the button at his waist. “when you came t’me this mornin, all flushed and pretendin t’be innocent. was this it? wantin’ me to bend y’over and take what y’fuckin offered?”

you choke as he tugs himself free - thick, leaking at the tip and throbbing - bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, nevermind taken.

the nod that follows is compulsive desperation. “holy fuck-yes-“

he smacks light at your thigh. “stand up. bend over f’me.”

you do as you’re told without hesitation - legs shaking as you stand spin and lean forward over the desk - breath still stuttering in your chest, heart going a mile a minute. your hands barely meet wood before he’s on you - no preamble. no breath between. grabs your hips like it’s instinct, like his hands were molded to hold you like this, and yanks you back against him with a roughness that steals whatever’s left in your lungs.

you shudder when he slides his cock against your slit once - twice - dragging the head through slick and stalls notched just shy of your entrance, breathing hard like it’s killing him to wait.

“y’remember what else y’said last night?”

you barely manage a nod. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he exhales something like a laugh.

“not compliments. not the fantasies. not the whining.” he drags through your mess again, slower this time. deliberate. “you said—“ his hips press forward just enough to make you gasp. “—you wondered if it’d hurt.”

you whine, embarrassed, but god it shoots straight through you. he bends low now, chest flush to your back, mouth to your ear.

“truth is, it might.” his lips curl into a smile. “so don’t fuckin run now.”

and then - only then - he pushes in. you gasp so hard your chest deflates on impact, thick head stretching sopping walls wide and dragging deeper than you’ve ever imagined - too much and not enough all at once.

“ohfuck-simon-“ your head drops toward the desk, eyes stinging.

“mm. tha’s it.” he groans, loud, burying himself halfway before pausing there. “tightest fuckin—bloody hell.”

he presses forward a little more - just enough to make your knees shake as he steadies you with one hand at your hip and grits his teeth. he pulls out just to feel you clench, then shoves back in - hard enough to jolt the desk and feed you all of him before you can even brace for it.

“ffffuck-ohfuck-“ you wail, knuckles bloodless where they clutch the desk. “you-you’re-“

“deep.” he bends over you, grabs a fistful of your hair, and drags your head back to his mouth, voice hot on your skin. “i fuckin know.”

he thrusts once. hard. then again. slower. deeper.

“jesus christ,” he undoes your bra with his free hand, paws at your tits until it hurts. “walked around this whole time with this cunt made f’me and didn’t say a fuckin word.”

“fuck simon-“

“yeah.” he grits against your ear. “tha’s how you moaned it last night. just like that.”

it’s punishing, the pace he sets. each snap of his hips smacking against your ass drags stars down into your retinas - body rocking and cervix kissed with each thrust - his grip is bruising and his mouth works at your neck, forcing noises out of you loud enough to rattle the fucking walls.

it doesn’t take long before your chest collapses onto slick wood, drool coated cheek pressed to the desk - vision bleeding white around the edges. he’s relentless - driven, brutal in rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck the memory of your voice out of his head, the memory of your thighs pressed together last night when he walked away instead of dropping to his knees and giving in.

he groans, open-mouthed, flushed everywhere. he’s not just fucking you. he’s wrecking you. dragging you across the edge by the throat and holding your broken pieces together with his own.

“mmf-fuck.” he snarls, burying his fist back in your hair. his palm cracks hard across your ass before snaking around your thigh to find your clit. devastating. “this. this is what i thought of for months. you. fuckin boneless f’me.”

he pulls out slow with a shuttering exhale, just enough for you to whine before he roars back in - hard and fast, fingers never slowing.

you shriek, squirming with no where to go.

“y’got no fuckin clue what y’did to me last night.” he’s panting, fingernails burning your scalp. “sat there slurrin filth. darin me t’do somethin bout it. tested every fuckin moral i’ve got.”

your second orgasm is a charging tide - and god, you know he feels it. you know by the way he rolls his fingers faster to chase it, moans in your ear when your walls flutter around him, fucks you deeper and slower just to drag you over by your hair.

“cum f’me. give me another.” he grits. “let me fuckin feel it sweet’eart.”

“ff-fuck simon! yes-yes-“

you sob, and then it hits you - violent and wet and cataclysmic - like every single one of your fantasies brought to life, like every pathetic orgasm you gave yourself to the thought of him and his fuckin hands all combined to create this. it’s stratospheric depths of bliss, all the colours of the rainbow erupting behind your eyes as he fucks you through it, not stalling his fingers until you’re sobbing.

“mhm. messy little thing.”

he growls with it before pulling out just enough to slap his cock against your soaked cunt, watching the slick stretch, the way you whine and arch out of pure fuckin instinct.

“look at this pretty cunt,” he rasps, teasing his tip over your clit. “drippin. tremblin. fuckin cryin f’me.”

you try to say something, try to catch a breath, but that all falls void as he thrusts back in without warning - one brutal, complete thrust, pushing everything out of you. screams, his name, your fucking soul. he groans as his hand finds your jaw, forcing your head to turn just enough so he can see your face. cheeks flushed, tears caught in your lashes.

“shh. don’t run—don’t fuckin run,” he growls against your mouth, arm cinched tight across your waist when your hips jerk away like it’s too much. “y’asked for this. said it t’me sober.”

“si-simon. please.” it’s breathless, ruined, wrecked beyond meaning, your mouth falling open on another sob when his hips grind deeper, when the head of him kisses a spot that has your knees giving out entirely. “fuck. s’good. s’m-much-“

“yeah?” he snarls. “s’good, huh?”

you nod something pathetic, lost for words. broken around him.

“want y’to think bout this when you’re alone.” his free hand drags down to your stomach, rests just high on your pelvis, feeling where he’s drilling. “how deep m’buried in this tight little cunt. how good my name feels in your fuckin throat.”

another nod. another hiccuped moan dragged out of you. “y-yes-yes i’ll think about it-mmff-“

“mhm,” he kisses you once. fleeting and viscous and hot. “good. s’good.”

a few more ragged thrusts and a sound gets torn from him, pulled from somewhere deep, feral and hoarse and ragged. his hips punch forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and then—

“fuck—fuck.”

he lets go.

he groans, voice breaking at the edges, forehead falling to the space between your shoulder blades. he pulses deep inside you, all of his pent up heat flooding you full until he’s spent, until he’s got nothing left to give and collapses against your back in one shuddering, boneless exhale.

and when it’s over, it’s just breathing - a long quiet moment full of everything neither of you know how to say before you register that he’s moving - leaning over you to grab at where his dog tags were discarded on the desk.

he slips them around your neck, and then pulls out.