Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader • 18+ MDNI
Stitch Me Up
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Explicit Sexual Content: Sex, Oral Sex
Mentions of blood and injury.
Summary: Ghost is your next door neighbour. You’re a nurse.
Sometimes, Ghost likes to come round so you’ll stitch him up.
He decides to come round, again, and again, and again…
Word Count: 7,569 • Masterlist
Making your way through the front door, you sigh wearily as you dump your bags on the floor.
Your ten hour shift followed by five hours of emergency triaging, followed by treatment had just ended at the hospital, and you were dead on your feet.
You managed to drag yourself to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, pausing to take big sips which you then top up.
Shuffling back to the living room, you set your glass down and collapse into the sofa. It’s your day off tomorrow, you’re determined to enjoy your free evening, even if you feel like the living dead.
Despite your plans, you nearly fell asleep once you’d settled on something to watch, only to be suddenly awoken by a banging on the front door.
“What the fuck?” you mumbled, puzzled at who would be knocking on your door so late. Shuffling to the door, you undo the locks and crack it open to peer outside.
You were met with the familiar face, or rather mask, of your neighbour. You only knew him as Ghost, though you were sure that’s not his real name. You’d met him a handful of times, well met was a strong term.
He’d acknowledged your presence with a nod of his head, which you got used to after the first time you tried to say hi, he’d ignored you. You could also tell he was military of some kind, between being gone for months, to the way he held himself. He towered over you. Usually anyway.
The first time he called at your home, he was slumped against your doorway.
“You’re a nurse right?” He grunted out bluntly. You nodded your head, slightly bewildered.
“Yes, I am, are you okay?” You questioned, taking in his appearance.
“Need a hand” he grunted again, gesturing to his side which you could see was oozing blood.
You opened the door as an invitation for him to come in, work mode activating.
“What happened?” You asked, gathering your supplies you had at home, putting gloves on as you gesture for him to sit on a stool in the kitchen.
“Got stabbed” he mumbled, bluntly. Not willing to add any more details.
“Right..” you said quietly, “take your shirt off?” you said, trying to keep your voice even. He just stared at you. “I need to see the wound” you said, like it’s obvious.
Ghost shifts so he’s holding his shirt up high enough for you to see the gash in his side. You try not to let your eyes linger on the abs the movement reveals and you snap back into work mode as you see the injury. Luckily you could take care of it.
“Why didn’t you just go to hospital? Or the police?” You wondered outloud as you began to clean the wound.
“Don’t like ‘em” he grumbles, not even flinching as you start to sew him up. You could tell he wasn’t up for talking so you grew quiet.
After you patched him up, he gave you a nod and an awkward “thanks” and then he was gone.
Since then, he’d come back to you in need of your services. You’d had quite the number of visits. Whatever his job was, it was dangerous apparently. You’d stitched up various knife wounds, tried to set broken bones and even a bullet once lodged in his shoulder.
He never flinched, let you patch him up, occasionally making conversation with you, share tiny bits of his life, nothing classified of course, but small stories about his team, or happier ones he could remember from other times in his life, and he’d listen to your stories intently, then just disappeared into the night again.
He started sometimes, very occasionally, come by without being hurt, to let you know he was going away, or to be careful, or to shove some snacks he bought you ask thanks into your hands or “here I got you this chain lock, let me install it for you”.
The occasional unnecessary visits became more frequent. Just fleeting, stopping at the door, asking how your day was.
A month went by and you didn’t see him. It was normal. He doesn’t always get a chance to tell you he’s leaving. Which is why it’s an even bigger shock when a familiar banging comes at your door late at night, well after you’d been asleep in bed.
Grabbing your only dressing gown, you wrapped it around your body which covered the fact you were only wearing a t shirt and underwear. You unlocked the door, leaving the chain attached like Ghost had told you to do after he came round.
Your eyes widened when you saw the state of Ghost, slumped against the door frame, skull mask instead of just a balaclava, tactical gear still on minus the vest and the helmet.
“Jesus Ghost” you exclaim, rushing to open the door, and you help him to your kitchen stool so you can patch him up. It’s become a bit of a routine now. For whatever reason, you’ve become his personal nurse.
You shed your dressing gown, unthinking other than it’s in the way right now as you pull out your equipment and put some gloves on. You don’t notice the way Ghosts eyes follow your bare legs.
You manage to convince him to take his shirt off this time, carefully helping him and avoiding catching his mask. He had a knife wound in his shoulder, and bad bruising across his chest where the bullet proof vest apparently did its job.
You get to work examining him, and stitching his wounds. You check his ribs and bones to make sure there’s nothing broken. When you’re done, he keeps staring at you.
“What?” You ask nervously, scanning his masked face for some kind of clue.
He sighs, “I uh, my thigh…” he mumbles, looking over at the wall behind you instead of your face.
You will your face to remain neutral as you step back and ask him to take his trousers off, or at least pull them down so you can help him in the most professional manner you can.
He sighs again and starts working his belt buckle. He shuffles his trousers down to just above his knees and leans back on the stool so you can see the wound on his upper inner thigh.
It’s so high that his boxers are covered in blood. You hesitantly come forward to stand between his legs and look at him. He nods slightly, giving you permission to touch his leg.
With your gloved hands, you crouch and begin to examine the wound, moving the fabric of his underwear so it’s not in your way. You glanced up at Ghost to see how he’s doing, but he’s staring blankly at the wall instead of watching you like he usually does. His fist tight on his healthy leg.
You begin your work when he suddenly goes tense. You glance up to ask if he’s okay, when a sizeable bulge starting to form just to the side of you, catches your eye. Ghost is still staring at the wall so he didn’t know you’d seen. Except it’s Ghost, so of course he does.
“Shit listen it’s uh, it’s been a while” he tries to joke, uncharacteristically awkward. Of course, you think, it’s not because of you.
“It’s okay don’t worry” you try to laugh it off “believe me, stuff like this happens more than you’d think” you say to try and relieve his awkward tension, except it seems to do the opposite.
A flash of rage passes through Ghost at the thought of some other scumbag getting bricked up at his nurse while you’re just trying to do your job and help them. It fizzles slightly knowing he’s also one of these scumbags right now.
He cringes at himself for not having better control of his body, but the sight of you between his legs, on your knees almost, so close to his crotch, just does something to him he can’t control. It’s not just that it’s been a while, although that is true.
He so badly wants to leave, but you’ve got a needle half way in his leg.
You can almost see his inter turmoil so you squeeze his non injured knee.
“Hey it’s really okay. You’re not making me uncomfortable” you blush, trying to sooth him. It was true.
You’d been harbouring a bit of a crush on him, somehow, even though you hadn’t seen his face. Out of all the people you’ve sewn up this month, you’d choose Ghost a million times to get a boner in your face. He doesn’t respond, and continues to stare at the wall.
“Really-“ you start.
“Stop. Talking” he mumbles, cutting you off, “please, just.. ” he says the last part so quietly you almost miss it.
You continue to sew up his wound, clearly talking about it is making him feel more awkward so you decided to leave it, for now.
When you’re done and stand back, Ghost quickly pulls his trousers back up, he starts to limp with wide quick strides to the door when you reach out tentatively to grab his arm. He spins and stares at you again, eyes darting from the hand on his arm to yours. You pull your arm back and fiddle with the hem of your shirt.
“Stay? For a bit? You’re hurt, I’ve got left overs you can eat, or tea, or coffee?” You ask, trying to hide your nervousness of a flat out rejection.
You think that’s what’s going to happen when he continues to stare.
Slowly, he nods.
“Let me get changed” he mumbles, after taking stock of his dirty, blood soaked gear. He’d just come back from a mission, and wanted to be alone instead of fussed over back on base, but he was hurt, so he’d come to you instead.
Ghost trusted you. Somehow. You’d made him feel comfortable around you in such a short amount of time, it kind of scared him. You never pushed him when he was silent to your questions, or when he didn’t take off the mask.
Instead, you talked about your day instead, told him about annoying patients, what your friends were doing, never faltering at his answers being grunts or simply nothing. You patched him up, no questions asked.
Most of the time, he’d just watch you work. Watch how your nose scrunched up when you’re concentrating, sometimes you would bite your lip. Watch how you tried to move your hair out your eyes while you worked, without using your sterile gloved hands.
He liked it when you fussed over him, as much as he’d hate to admit it. You were always worried about him and tried to do more than just patch him up, let you feed him, something, but he’d always refused.
Until today.
Maybe it was the fact his leg hurt and didn’t want to stand to make himself food, or maybe it was the multiple wounds, or maybe it was just you that he could no longer resist.
Ghost fumbled around in his own apartment, quickly hopping in the shower, then getting changed into some sweats and a baggy hoodie.
He’d noticed a gash on the side of his head he needed you to look at, one he couldn’t really see, so as he glanced at the mask, he decided to go without it for once. He trusted you.
When he lightly knocked on your door again after almost turning around, you answered quickly. You did a double take at his bare face, but quickly smiled at him like normal, as if nothing had changed.
He let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, as you let him back in your home.
Meanwhile, internally, you were kind of freaking out. Yeah, you had a crush on him before, but now you’ve seen his face, you felt slightly in love.
Holy shit, he’s so fucking hot? He was blonde, had a few scars on his face, he was handsome, in a rugged, hardened way. His nose was crooked from a break or two. Or five. You go into the kitchen to continue your mental freak out while you prepare the left overs. He follows.
“Tea?” You ask, thinking it’s a bit late for coffee.
“Sure” he says a bit stiffly, leaning against the counter.
You turn to look at him to ask how he takes it when he says “two sugars, no milk” before you can formulate the sentence.
You nod and smile at him again. Turning to flick on the kettle to make his tea.
He doesn’t know how you do that, just smile at him so freely like you’re not making him want to fall to his knees for you.Like he’s not essentially a highly trained weapon.
Aside from his team, you’re the only other person he has regular contact with and it’s by choice. He used to go to you sometimes with very minor injuries, for you to check him out. You knew he knew it’s not bad enough but you check him out anyway. Eventually, he dropped the excuse he was hurt all together.
You look the wound on his head that he genuinely needed checking. His blonde hair was an alarming share of red when he’d taken it off before his shower, but you deem that “he’ll live” and it shouldn’t need stitches.
“The head bleeds more than anywhere else” you explained, “head injuries always look a lot worse than they usually are”.
Of course, he already knows this, but he hums in interest anyway.
You hand him his tea with a “careful it’s hot”.
He takes a sip, then sighs.
“Simon” he says suddenly, like he was wanted to rush the word out.
You look at him.
“What?” You question the sudden word, tired brain taking a second to catch up.
“My name, call me Simon” he says again gruffly, as if it’s obvious.
“Simon” you say slowly, then smile brightly at him. He huffs and rolls his eyes, a light pink dusting his cheeks.
You gasp playfully at the sight.
“Did I just make the big scary Ghost, blush?” You giggle, nudging his shoulder with yours slightly as you prepare his food.
“You think I’m scary?” He asked, more serious again.
You turned to look at him properly again. “No” you said honestly, looking him in the eye.
“Ever?” He asked.
“Never” you smile at him, “I’m not scared of you, you might be scary to other people but you’re not to me.”
He doesn’t answer and lets you continue to dish out a healthy portion for him, and a smaller one for yourself.
You can see him eyeing your smaller portion with a bit of a frown so you explain.
“I’ve already had my tea, like 4 hours ago?” You laugh. You’d been in bed when he came round.
Ghost, or Simon now, huffs again and moves to sit at the table where you placed his dish. Secretly he feels a bit guilty now, waking you up.
You both eat in a comfortable silence, Simon wolfs his own food down with astonishing speed.
“Good?” You ask laughing slightly. He just nods, with a hum of agreement and continues to eat.
Once you’re both finished, Simon awkwardly excuses himself, thanking you for the meal, saying you need your sleep and retreats to his own flat quite quickly, not leaving any room for an argument.
You pout slightly but the fact you’d had dinner together put a smile back on your face.
Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’d been determined to befriend him as soon as you met him. You had a feeling he didn’t have many people around him.
You had a smile on your face while you cleaned up. His walls were up but you wanted to wait for him to open the door, instead of breaking through.
However, when you settled back in bed, your mind turned back to the very sizeable bulge in his underwear.
You could see it twitching occasionally in your peripheral vision as you tried your best to focus on the poor man’s stitches.
Your hand started to snake down to your underwear, dipping under the waist band.
You moaned softly as you pressed your fingers to your clit, imagining it was Simon’s big hands instead.
You start a steady rhythm that has you breathless, when suddenly there’s a knock at your front door again.
Your hand flies out of your underwear like you’d just been caught in the act, your heart pounding.
You shuffle across your flat again and open the door, unchained before hand because who else would it be?
Simon stood there, red in the face as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I um tore my stitches” he grunted out.
You give him an exasperated look as you pull him inside by his forearm.
“What do you mean you tore your stitches? You were gone for like 20 minutes” you sighed, getting your kit out again.
You stopped to wash your hands and remembered what you were doing just before he knocked and your felt your face heat up. Luckily he couldn’t see while you were facing the sink. You take a deep breath and turn back to him.
“Well?” You asked, looking at him. He’s not getting out of answering this time.
His eyes snap up to yours after they seemed to linger on your bare legs for a second.
“I was working out” he mumbled.
Ghost could lie, Simon however, it seems couldn’t lie quite as well. It wasn’t his performance, so much as it was that he’d just been stabbed, and it’s like three in the morning.
You sigh, not really believing him but too tired to argue.
“Take your shirt off again” you say as you ready your equipment, seeing the blood leaking through his shirt.
“Both of them” he mumbles, glancing down to his thigh, where you could see the blood coming through there too.
“The fuck Simon?” You huff. You’d just done these, how did he rip them so bloody quickly?
“Now you really have to tell me what you were doing, partly as payment for stitching you up again, and partly because you’re not allowed to do it again, until these have healed more” you say, looking at him expectantly.
Simon wasn’t looking at you, his eyes darting around your kitchen from where he sat on the stool. His face was starting to heat up as he avoided your harsh eye contact.
“Iwashavingawank” he mumbled so fast you couldn’t catch it.
“What?” You asked, wanting him to repeat it.
“I was jacking off okay? Fuckin’ hell..” He rushes out, taking you by surprise.
You stared at him for a second, unable to form a thought over the idea of him touching himself that entered your brain.
Touching himself so vigorously that he tore the stitches in his shoulder and thigh.
“Must be pretty pent up then” you try to joke it off, like you hadn’t just been doing the same thing to the thought of him.
“Something like that” he huffs, eyes darting towards you and then away again.
You finish patching up his shoulder again, applying a new adhesive bandage.
You move away so he can pull his dark coloured joggers down, but he didn’t move.
You simply stared at him, matching his usual energy, sleeplessness catching up with you.
He sighed and pulled the waistband down enough so you could fix his wound. As you crouched down between his legs again to inspect it, Simon’s hand moved to cover the bulge that started to form in his underwear.
You were practically on your knees in front of him, his body didn’t care that he’d just come to the thought of you like this.
He’d pulled his stitches when he’d finished, muscles tensing all over his body enough that they had popped from the unexpected strain.
In his weak defence, he hadn’t had time to tend to himself while he was away even once.
His quickly hardening problem was more obvious this time, the underwear he had on after his shower weren’t as tight.
You tried to ignore it best you could as you redid his stitching, intending to make some comfortable small talk like usual to make him feel better but your sleep deprived brain just blurted out “it’s okay, please don’t be embarrassed. It’s funny actually, before you knocked, I was doing the same thing”.
You froze when you realise what you said. So did Simon. The hand on his covered cock flexed slight.
Neither of you said anything, but you could feel his eyes on you as you finished his stitches and wrapped him up again.
When you were done, you slowly looked up at him, still crouched between his legs. The way he was looking at you made your face heat up. Like he wanted to eat you.
“What were you thinkin’ about?” Simon almost whispers to you.
Your eyes flicker down to his hand that’s basically gripping his clothed cock at this point, then back up to his hungry eyes. He catches it and something in his demeanour shifts.
“Oh yeah?” He asks more confidently, moving his hand over himself again to grab your attention.
It works and your eyes flicker down again. You make a show of dragging your eyes over his bare chest, freely staring now. You nod your head at him when your eyes meet his face, biting your lip.
Suddenly you’re being pulled to your feet, strong hands wrapping around your waist and the back of your head as you’re pulled into an incredibly heated kiss.
You wrap your arms around his neck when you get with the program, after a bit of shock wore off, and run your hands all through his short blond hair, tugging slightly when his teeth nip your lip.
He goes to pick you up from the backs of your thighs but you pull away and put your hand on his chest. He immediately pulls his hands away, holding them up like they’d burned you.
You pull him down for a quick peck, him willingly bending since he’s so much taller than you, to try sooth his worries that he didn’t do anything wrong.
“I wasn’t joking about earlier when I said you can’t do that till they’ve healed a bit more” you try to say sternly, looking up at him.
His face shifts from worried to slightly shocked, then he smirked slightly at you.
“I mean, I had something a bit more than that on my mind, I don’t know about you” he teased back, but his face fell when your serous face didn’t change.
“You’re kidding me” he stated flatly, not as a question because he could tell you weren’t.
“I’m not sewing you up for a third time tonight Simon, as much as I’d love to participate in other things you have in mind” you sigh, lightly tracing the bandage.
He starts to kiss down your jaw and nuzzle into your neck, pressing small kisses anywhere he can reach. He feels you sigh, leaning into him despite your words.
“I’ll be so careful, love” he whispers in your ear. Your heart flutters at the new term of endearment.
“I don’t believe you” you tried to huff, voice only wavering slightly at his actions. Your hands were still in his hair and the nails scraping over the nape of his neck made him shiver.
You’re trying to be the responsible one but your will is only so strong against this wall of raw muscle.
His hands ran all over your body, squeezing and groping anywhere he could reach.
It seems now Simon knew you weren’t going to reject his advances, the floodgates of how touch starved he actually was, opened.
You wanted this too, you were just being stubborn and worrying about him too much.
“I will, I’ll be careful, don’t want you t’ worry your pretty little head ‘bout me, just need you so bad love” he mumbles into your neck, pushing his hardness against your lower stomach.
He sucked a love bite into your neck, and as your hands tightened in his hair, he let out a groan.
Your will crumbled as you gasped his name. He groaned again at the sound of his name falling from your lips and brought his head up to kiss you again.
While you were distracted by his tongue behind your teeth, he lifted you onto the counter with mostly his good arm.
You gasped again at the sudden coolness of the counter, your hands starting to explore the canvas of his back muscles, squeezing at his good shoulder and biceps. He leans into your touches.
“You sure you want this?” He asks seriously, breaking away to look at you. Even on the counter, he’s still taller than you so you have to look up.
He’s not just asking about having sex. You can tell. He’s asking about all of him. He can’t do this and then walk away from you. You can’t either. If you do this, you’re his.
“Yes Simon, I want all of you” you say earnestly, looking into his eyes.
He holds your face in his big hands, searching your eyes for any sign you’re not sure, then pulls you to him in a kiss so fierce yet gentle it makes you want to cry, when he finds nothing but adoration in your eyes.
“Usually I’d pick you up and take you to your bedroom but I believe I made some stupid agreement to preserve my wellbein’ so you better get your stunnin’ little ass in there now” he commands, tone still light as he lifts you from the counter, spins you then starts to herd you from behind towards your room, slapping your ass lightly as he peels away from you to check the locks and turn all the lights off for you.
If he slipped across the hallway silently to grab one of his smaller guns, which he hid on the top of your wardrobe for now as your back was turned, you’d never know.
You jumped when he wrapped his warm arms around you, from where you stood clearing some of your things off the bed. You hadn’t heard him come up behind you at all.
“Sorry, love” he teased, not sounding sorry in the slightest, pressing kisses from your temple down your neck again. You sighed and relaxed into his hold.
“You really are like a ghost” you laugh, he huffs in acknowledgment against you but doesn’t say anything. Simon has more pressing matters to attend to.
He spins you round so you’re facing him, then crowds you backwards so you fall onto the bed. You expect him to follow you, but he just stands there at the end of the bed above you, staring again.
There’s a different gaze in his eyes this time though, he looks like he wants to devour you. It sends a shiver down your spine, he looks somehow, even more excitingly large from this angle.
Then your jaw drops as he literally falls to his knees in front of you. You barely have time to take in the sight before he’s pulling your hips towards him.
“Your shoulder” you yelp, trying to remind him to be careful through his man handling. He dips his head and lightly bites your thigh in retaliation. You cry out again which fades into a moan as his tongue soothes the sting.
Simon kisses your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need him but suddenly he wants to take his sweet time. You almost whine as you try to move your hips to urge him on, but his big arm to wraps around you to keep you still.
Taking pity on you, Simon presses the flat of his tongue over your wet underwear.
You do whine this time, eyes fluttering at the not quite enough feeling, while Simon groans at the taste leaking through from how wet you are. He ruts hips into nothing, eager for some friction that isn’t there.
Deciding he’s not in the mood for teasing you anymore, he makes quick work of your underwear, flinging it off to the side before he sets his tongue back on you, making contact with your puffy clit.
You arch your back as he runs his tongue though your wetness then back up to loop around your bud.
Your hand flies down to grip at his hair, while the other grips the bedsheets beside your head. He works you with his tongue on your clit, watching you intently to figure out what you like best.
Simon adds two of his thick fingers next, crooking them to find the spot that shoots pleasure up your spine.
“Ah! Simon” You cry, hurling towards your finish quicker than you ever expected when he finds it. He keeps his pace consistent as you start to rock your hips in warning of your oncoming orgasm. Not even a minute later and the damn breaks, your orgasm intense. You even feel it flood out of you around his fingers.
Simon decides he wants to hear your moans forever when you come on his fingers and tongue. He works you through it, wanting to savour every even small whimper you made for him. He drags his tongue over your entrance then licks his fingers clean, making eye contact with you as he does so.
“Holy shit” you puff out a breathy laugh.
“Feel good?” Simon checks in gently, nose pressing against your cheek as he came to lean over you.
“Mhm so good” you sigh, finally getting your breath back a bit as you kiss his pretty lips. He kisses you back then hooks his good arm round your waist, picking you up mostly with one arm to deposit you with your head in the pillows effortlessly.
You huff a laugh, smiling up at him, feeling fluttery at the show of strength.
“Be careful” you try to scold lightly, Simon just rolls his eyes at you and smiles. You smile wider, continuing your staring at his face which makes him blush slightly. How can this man eat you out like that but blushes when you see him smiling?
He taps out of the eye contact by kissing you again, then flipping so you’re on top of him.
“You know, on account of I’m injured n’ all” he smirks up at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, laughing, then duck your head to begin your path of gentle and not so gentle love bites down his chest.
You’re careful to avoid any areas that look sore. You’re sucking on skin too close to the bruises on his chest accidentally, and Simon bucks his hips up into you with a grunt. If it weren’t for his solid grip on your hips, you would have gone flying forward.
“Fuck baby” he groans, moving your hips back and forth as he grinds his hard on up into you, while you continue to give him love bites, exploring his muscled arms and chest.
You sink further down till you’re sat between his legs, kissing down his abs. They tense and quiver with your harsh sucking, leaving more makes across his abdomen and hips.
When you get to his waist band, you look up at him while your fingers curl over the edge, one last nod from him has you pulling them down.
His large, hard cock rests against his lower stomach, leaking and twitching when you kiss his hips again. There’s no way you’ll be able to fit the whole thing in your mouth.
Your mind flashes back to his teasing earlier and well, if he wanted to tease, you could too. You sucked bites into his inner thighs, watching them twitch along with his length.
Simon’s big hands come to wrap in your hair, not applying pressure, just holding. When you finally, finally kiss the base of his cock, he groans and his fists tighten.
“Fuck baby c’mon, I’m not gonna last like this. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said it’s been a while” Simon groaned from above you as you placed small kisses up his length.
He felt like he hadn’t had that wank earlier at all, already ready to bust from weeks of pent up sexual frustration, and your teasing is only adding petrol to the fire.
You took pity on him, so you grabbed the base of his cock with one hand, leaning forward to give small experimental licks to the leaking head.
Simon gasped quietly, trying not to buck his hips or just force your head down. Pressing your tongue harder against the head, you drag it across the leaking slit, tasting the salty pool of pre he was creating.
He moaned this time, hands tightening further into your hair, pinpricks of mild pain across your scalp. You finally took him into your mouth and he groaned loudly, hips bucking up slightly where his self control is running out.
Bobbing your head up and down, you use your tongue to swirl around the head, pressing and licking with your actions.
“Fuck baby so good, mouths so pretty love” he groans from above you. You glance up and meet his already staring eyes. He’s flushed down to his chest, hazy eyes, looking like you hung the fucking moon for him.
When you make eye contact with him, with his cock nearly down your throat, he thrusts up into your mouth again. You hum around him to encourage it before he can apologise.
You feel him throb. He moans loudly again, thighs twitching at the sensation. Simon starts to slowly move his hips in a steady rhythm, and paired with your playful tongue and the humming, he’s not going to last long at all.
“Shit, fuck, oh my fuckin’ god I’m gonna-“ Simon grunts in warning, seconds before his cock throbs and his spend is shooting into your mouth. He groans long and low, as his incredibly intense orgasm passes through him.
He rocks his hips into your mouth, working himself through it. You swallow everything he gives you, and use your tongue to drag out his orgasm, long enough that he’s over sensitive, groaning and hissing as his thighs and hips twitch under the pressure of your tongue. He lets you though. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him.
When you release him from your torment, he’s still very much hard. Simon quickly pulls you up so you’re sat on his hips again, his hot cock settled between your bare wet folds. You moan at the sensation and can’t help moving your hips back and forth.
“Simon, want you inside me” you whine, feeling yourself coat his cock in your arousal, suddenly done with any and all forms of foreplay. You feel his dick twitch at your words.
“Fuck baby, c’me ’ere” his grunts out, pulling you down to kiss you again. His other arm goes to position himself at your entrance now you’re leaning forward. “You sure?” He asks one last time, pulling away from your lips slightly.
You nod quickly, “please, please” you start to beg, feeling him so close to where you want him.
“Okay, okay shh, I’ll give you what you need love, no need to beg me” Simon soothes, starting to press in. “Oh fuck baby, you’re so tight” he groans out, hissing as he slips further inside you, still sensitive from your mouth.
You’re glad that you’re so aroused for him, taking him is no easy task. You moan at how full you feel, walls fluttering to adjust to his size. You sit up slightly and slowly start rocking your hips down on him.
He stays still, letting you control the pace, for now.
His hand slips between your bodies to rub at your clit, distracting you from any discomfort. You both moan into each other’s mouths when his hips meet yours, and he’s bottomed out inside of you. So deep that he’s nearly pressed against your cervix.
Simon can feel you clenching around him, adjusting to the large presence, and you’re both covered in a sheen of sweat now.
Simon gives your body a minute to adjust, getting the go ahead when you start moving your hips again, back and forth in circles, humming a moan.
“You ready?” He asks, pulling you back down to him and gathering some of your hair in his hand again, the other coming to guide your face to his, making you look into his eyes.
You blush, and smile as you nod, gently reminding him to be careful with his stitches again and then pressing your lips against his.
Slowly, he pulled out of you again while you kissed, till just the tip was left, braces you by wrapping a strong arm round your waist, and then he suddenly thrust back into you. Hard.
You cry out a moan into his mouth, mildly startled but it’s quickly overwhelmed by how good it felt. Your hands fly out to claw at his chest.
Simon starts a slow, powerful rhythm, pulling you back down onto him as he drives his cock up into you.
You can’t kiss him while he does this to you, so you hold yourself up on his chest above him, as eager to see his face during this as he was to see yours. The way you’re pressing down on him with your body weight, nails cutting into his skin makes him grunt, and snap his hips harder.
Simon’s glad you made him cum earlier, he wouldn’t have lasted 2 seconds with this sight above him. Your eyes are scrunching closed, although you seem to be trying to keep them open, but the pleasure he’s giving you is too much. You make heavenly noises, loudly crying out his name when he grinds up into you, catching your clit on his pelvis.
Loud staccato moans with every hard thrust up into you. He angles his hips so the head of his cock bullies the soft spot inside you with every thrust, making you keen. His hands grab anywhere they can reach, your chest, your ass, they hold you against him tightly.
Your nails rake down his upper chest, leaving raised red lines over his shoulders and even arms. Avoiding the stitched wound, but only just. He groans at the feeling and it spurs him on even more.
“So perfect baby, takin’ me so well” Simon mumbles, “so wet for me, could stay here forever”. He grunts his praises for you in between the moans and groans you’re ripping out of him.
As your orgasm starts to build, your arms shake with the weight of your body. When Simon sneaks a hand between you to play with your clit again, your arms give out and you wrap them around him instead, burying yourself in his neck.
“Come on baby, come on my cock” he grunts out, breathless with pleasure and the effort he’s putting into fucking you.
Two more strokes of his fingers, and you’re coming loudly on his cock. You feel it relight deep inside you with every rock of his hips, dragging it out, wave after wave of pleasure. He holds you tight against him with one arm, and his thrusts increase as you tighten impossibly around him.
“Yes, yes, fuck yes that’s it baby, come on my cock, gonna fill you up, fuck” Simon groans at the feeling, the way you’re fluttering around him drags his orgasm out of him as well. With a loud, rough moan, he’s slamming into you, once, twice, then he grinds as far in as he can go as his warm come covers your insides.
Breathing heavily, you both hold each other in a sweaty embrace for a while, till you start to drift off to sleep.
Simon manages to lift you enough to slide out from under you, albeit with your mumbles of protest when the warmth beneath you is gone.
He pads over to your bathroom to grab a cloth to wipe you down. He stops to look in the mirror to check his stitches, luckily they’d mostly held, somehow, but he needs to fix one or two on both his leg and shoulder. It only takes him a couple of minutes, expertly matching your stitches with the kit under the sink.
He applies a new adhesive bandage and you’d never even know. Not that he hadn’t genuinely needed your assistance whenever he came round, but one or two stitches was nothing. He can’t help but smile to himself as he takes in the sight of the many love bites scattered over his body, and the raised red lines from your nails.
Coming back to the bed, he wipes your sleepy form down, cleaning up the mess he left between your thighs, throws the cloth in the washing basket, then climbs back into bed with you. You’re already passed out, the late night and intense orgasms catching up to you.
Simon pulls you to him, and you move to rest your head on his chest in a half conscious state before you’re out again.
He plays with your hair while you drift back off, pressing a kiss to your temple as he looks around your room briefly, in an innocent curiosity of just wanting to know you better, before sleep over takes him.
For the first time in years, Simon sleeps peacefully.
Over the next few months, while Simon isn’t deployed, you continue to deepen your relationship together.
He’s always round at yours while he’s on leave now. He feels happy for once. Something that felt like he’d never have again.
You’d said “I love you” accidentally, while in the middle of what could only be described as an aggressive love making session.
Simon’s thrusts were deep and sensual, he’d been kissing every inch of skin he could reach, touching you with such care in contrast to the way he’s pushing his fat cock deep inside you.
He’d come when you said it.
“Oh god I love you too, fuck” he’d moaned through his orgasm, harshly thrusting himself through it.
“Shit, sorry” he grumbled sheepishly as his premature release, but you just dragged him into a deep kiss.
As the months went by, he ended up selling his own flat. He wasn’t there, any time he spend on leave, he was always at yours anyway. Now when he was deployed, he had someone waiting for him back home.
He actually wanted to make it home. He had to, for you.
Johnny was the first person to notice a change in Simon.
The first thing he noticed was that he appeared eager to leave base whenever they got back from a mission.
Johnny just chalked it up to Simon being sick of people, but he got more concerned when he noticed Simon was injured sometimes, and still left.
Johnny tried to ask him how he’s dealing with these injuries he leaves with but he just shrugs him off saying he deals with them himself. Not completely uncharacteristic and he’s not dead yet so Johnny leaves it for now.
The next time Johnny suspects something, he catches Simon on the phone while they’re resting in a safe house on a mission. They only have burner phones here so whoever it is, must have had the number, or Simon had the number.
He was too far away to hear anything, but that in itself was strange because he’s used to Ghost barking orders, leaving no room to be misheard. So who is Simon talking to so, so softly? Oh my god, did he just laugh?
When he tries to question Simon about who was on the phone later that night, he just shrugs him off again, staring hard in a way that left no room to argue.
The months drift by, and Johnny feels like he’s no closer to figuring out what’s going on with his Lieutenant, and why he’s suddenly not completely unpleasant to be around.
He’d caught Simon having some self inflicted fun once. That’s when he started to suspect Ghost might have got himself a little lassie.
It wasn’t the first time, for either of them to walk in on each other. It isn’t unusual for these men who are away for months, especially because they all live so close together, but the fact he seemed to hide a physical picture from him before bothering to hide his junk was very intriguing. Johnny had never seen him with that photo before.
All of Johnny’s current questions are answered one evening, Johnny is asking Simon about the tattoos on his hands.
They’re both drunk, bored out of their minds, trying to stake out a place for a mission except there’s no one coming in or out, and he asks about the line that runs across the base of his ring finger.
“Wedding ring” Simon mumbles out without really thinking, alcohol dulling his usually sharp mind. His fingers ran over it as he gazes down at it with a look that could only be described as longing.
“Wedding ring??” Johnny yells, way too loud for the late time of night.
“Ah shit…” Simon sighs.
Thank you for reading, this has also been cross posted on my AO3 • Masterlist • Photo used in header credit: BettyBRenders.
