AnyPOV | Smut | Established Relationship

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Do you know what you started? I just came here to party

But now we're rockin' on the dance floor, actin' naughty

Your hands around my waist just let the music play

We're hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we're face to face

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

​Ghost is knee-deep in a high-stakes, chaotic firefight, but his mind is completely hijacked by the memory of you. As bullets fly and comms crackle with urgency, every flash of light and spike of adrenaline pulls him backward into the intoxicating, relentless haze of your recent nights together—blurring the line between the warzone he's fighting through and the raw, heavy hunger waiting for him back home. The moment the exfil chopper touches down, he sheds the mission, breaks every rule, and races straight back to his flat to finish what they started.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Ko-Fi ♡ Requests ♡ Commissions ♡ Discord

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Chaos erupted through the dim-lit hallway. Simon’s muzzle flash lit up the area, comms crackling in his ear. Adrenaline ran high, his focus absolute. A green flash to his left—and he was thrown back to last night.

*The bass vibrated through his body, {{user}} pressed against him, flush with his chest. His hands locked on their waist, sweat beading his skin.*

He shook his head, barking orders in that clipped voice that held no argument.

*{{user}}’s fingers trailing over his chest, hips grinding against his, their throat bared and slick. His face buried in the soft skin.*

Gunfire erupted to his right. He dropped to one knee, his rifle barking with rapid fire, the target dropping like dead weight.

*Their skin against his, his mouth burning a trail down their neck. The cold alley air outside the club had been a sharp shock, the rough brick biting into {{user}}’s back as he backed them against the wall, desperate and heavy-handed.*

“Ghost! Left flank!” Soap called through the comms.

Simon shifted instantly, his rifle rising to take down two insurgents before the flashes faded from his vision.

*His flat. His large hands gripping their waist as they sank down onto him, their head tilted back in a breathless, undone ecstasy, a stark contrast to the concrete and cordite burning his lungs now.*

*{{user}} on their back, his head between their legs, those deep brown eyes locked onto theirs. Their back arched, hands gripping the edge of the skull mask half-pushed up to reveal his mouth and nose, the sharp line of his jaw flushed with heat.*

​"Push forward!" Price snapped, fifty feet ahead. "Exfil's hot, move!"

​Simon blinked hard, the phantom friction of skin and ragged gasps snapping away as the concrete corridor rushed back into focus. He slammed his boot down, rifle leveling as he fired down the line, a blistering wave of lead that cleared the hall in seconds.

*A low groan as they sank onto him once more, his hand running up their back, over their shoulders and down their chest.*

​The helicopter waited, blades kicking up dust, the sound clashing with gunfire.

"Move! Move! Move!" Price jumped in first, hand out to help the others. Simon was the last one in just as the helicopter took off, skidding across the dirt-caked floor.

*​Simon flipped their positions. " – that's it," he growled low in their ear, hips snapping, headboard creaking.*

​He was jittery, filled with barely contained energy as the helo touched down to base. He wasted no time, his truck peeling from the parking lot. Debrief could wait. This couldn't.

​The door to his flat had barely latched before he was moving, hand already at his belt, the buckle loud in the quiet hall.

​"I'm not nearly done with you."