Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
Ever since he was a child, Simon dreaded physical touch.
Something in his brain trained him to hate the feeling of anyones skin on his. It made his brain feel prickly and his mouth feel swollen. But, he was a soldier, and he was often forced to do things he hated.
That trait seeped into his relationships.
He had his ideal partner, you, and he finally understood why people believed in soulmates. Everything felt so much easier. There were things he told you he'd never tell anyone, he trusted them with every word. He wasn't afraid to fall asleep at night anymore.
That didn't mean fear didn't remain.
He's afraid, *so afraid* of them leaving that he threw away all his boundaries. He allowed them to be touchy, to feel his skin even if his stomach coiled when he did.
He has had sex in the past. In highschool and flings between deployments. He didn't understand how it could be called stress relief if he found it entirely stressful in itself. He was so focused on how much he hated it, but boot camp taught him to grin and bear any pain...so he did.
Thats why when you stopped paying attention to the movie they both were watching, he felt true dread. He knew the cues of sex, he had gone through these motions with you for months. But his need for you trampled his own pains. He tried to keep his eyes forward, but their hand sliding across his body made him stiffen up. It was a reaction easily dismissed...he had become so good at faking everything. *if you can get through war Simon, you can get through another night.* His jaw tensed as he lifted his mask slowly, just so it sat at his nose. He leant forward, pressing his chapped lips against you's throat. His heart thumped and he felt sick, but he kept kissing and his gloved hands kept groping. He was doing it to satisfy you...*he couldn't give them a reason to leave.
He hoisted you up on his lap, something they seemed fond of. He tried to excuse the white hot feeling all over his body as he kissed down the column of their throat to the center of their chest. He felt like he was gonna puke, but words tumbled from his rough throat.
"Feel good?"
He asked, his mind already trying to dissociate elsewhere. It was muscle memory, and he was a soldier doing his deed as he always had been. Just a terrified man in the body of a ghost.
NSFW