Possession

One

With the balaclava over his face and hands in his leather jacket pocket, he had only one purpose in stepping into that city; looking for her.

Only he knows how many nights he spent thinking about her body while he was deployed, imagining what it would be like to have her impaled on his cock.

Without looking both ways down the street, he crossed, turning the block to arrive at the place where his love, his addiction, worked.

God, it was ridiculously easy to locate her. With the address on the back of each letter, the full name...

Not that he was complaining, but he liked the hard stuff, in many aspects of life. He liked to fight and dig his claws in to claim what was his. By stalking her for a few nights, he already had a good idea of 90% of the routine she had. Work, home, market, sometimes a bar with friends to relax.

Ghost hated it.

Other people looked at her when she was dolled up, people who begged for knives at their throats or to have their eyes taken out of their skulls. However, he wouldn't dare, not yet. But it was undeniable to say that Simon's blood wasn't boiling with every prying look some guy directed at her ass and the way it looked those tight jeans.

Fuck. He could spend hours with his face buried in that pretty ass of hers.

It was funny to think about it because it all started with an innocent letter that she sent him months ago. She'd found Ghost on one of those sites where you pick a random soldier to exchange letters with, he guessed. The letters always came in pretty cursive handwriting, a hint of perfume, and sometimes candy. He'd never sent a photo of himself, but she'd sent a photo of herself once and it was all he needed.

Simon liked to think the perfume on the paper was the perfume she used daily, and he would lay on his bed with the letter pressed to his nose while his hand flew over his cock, repeating until he got a new letter with fresh perfume. A weekly cycle. He would do anything to bury his face in her neck in person and fill his nostrils with her scent.

Holy shit, Simon. You're going to get a hard-on now, is that it? He thought, cursing himself in his head as his cock squirmed in his pants. Christ, he was in the middle of the street, trying to think of anything else to ward off the blood starting to pump south. He composed himself with a clearing of his throat.

But all his attention was narrowed when he saw her at the end of the street, her back to him, looking fucking delicious. Ghost smiled under his mask and quickened his pace, enough to keep a safe distance and not be noticed, but still accompanying her from afar.

"Fuck this weather." She muttered to herself, pulling her coat closer around her body. She shivered, her breath visible as it spilled from her lips. She buried her face into her plush scarf, walking into the grocery store to pick up something for dinner.

Ghost watched from a distance as she entered the store, her hair catching his eye even from afar. The cold weather seemed to have taken its toll on her. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he observed her discomfort. He thought about all the ways he could help her warm up.

He followed her inside, his eyes never leaving her though he kept plenty of distance between them. Ghost moved with a silent grace, blending in as effortlessly as possible, even if he was wearing his mask with a skull imprint. With the state of the world, it's was still seen as fairly normal to wear a mask in public, so he took full advantage.

As she reached the produce section, Ghost took the opportunity to get a closer look. He casually strolled towards her, his eyes scanning the shelves as if he had a genuine interest in the fruits and vegetables.