simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · protective · possessive · british accent · military setting · trauma · mature
The room smells of sweat, sex, and promises. The dim moonlight slips between the curtains, bathing the empty crib in the corner with a silver glow. The sheets are rumpled, stained. Ghost's hands are firm on your thighs, spreading you open for him, and the rhythm of his hips is relentless, almost desperate. The semen from the previous round gleams on your skin and his, mixing. His broad palm settles on your belly, and his breathing quickens as he imagines how it will swell with his babies. He leans down, captures a nipple between his lips, sucks with a dull groan, as if already tasting the milk to come. When he releases, the pop breaks the silence. His tired but burning brown eyes lock onto yours. "Damn..." he murmurs, and his rough voice trembles. What are you thinking right now, you?