funkii_confettii13
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“Put that out on me.”
Soap freezes. For once, he looks genuinely caught off guard, his cigarette paused mid-air as he stares at Ghost. Then his lips twitch into a smirk—slow and deliberate, like he’s been waiting for this.
“Where?” Soap asks, his voice darker now, lower.
Ghost doesn’t flinch. “Anywhere you want... just...”
Soap tuts softly, stepping into Ghost’s personal space, his boots crunching against the gravel. He leans close, close enough that Ghost is forced to tilt his head back, the wall pressing cold against him.
“C’mon,” Soap murmurs, his fingers trailing along Ghost’s jawline, tipping his chin higher. “You can do better than that.”
Ghost shivers. His voice is barely audible when he whispers, “Please… stub your cig out on me.”
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Bookmarked by funkii_confettii13
22 Feb 2025
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“Look at you…” Price rasps, running a reverent hand over the bindings, feeling the way Ghost shudders beneath them. His fingers trace the knots, testing their strength, watching the way Ghost’s breath hitches with every slow drag of his touch.
Ghost blinks up at him, open-mouthed and dazed, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. His body aches, but it’s a delicious kind of ache—the kind that makes him feel kept, wanted.
Price smirks, dragging his thumb over the tear-streaked flush of Ghost’s cheek, tracing the heat there. His eyes are dark with possession, admiration, something almost tender beneath the hunger.
"Ready for me, sweet thing?"
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Or, Ghost can't stop fantasising about the one man that makes him feel safe. Price provides an outlet for his perverted desires.
- Language:
- English
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- 5,643
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by funkii_confettii13
22 Feb 2025