Gloss and Salt | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

4

A knock on his arm draws his focus away from the last of his Bourbon in his glass.

"What yer thinkin' bout big guy?" Johnny questions.

He appreciates Soap trying to pull him into conversations in casual settings like this, he always tries, but backs off when he sees Ghost isn't in the mood for small talk. He rarely is, but gets the intention behind it. The longer the time between missions is, the more Ghost draws inward when he's alone. It takes him a little to thaw out when he emerges from his curated quiet space between the woods around his house and the mattress of his bed that's too soft and cold. So he just shakes his head at Soap. He's going to need another glass to get to that point.
The others continue their quiet conversations over the table they're sitting around while a slow country song idly floats through the room. The call to pack his stuff and come to Camp Lejeune in North Carolina almost felt like a relief to Ghost, he could actually focus his mind on something now.

The table goes quiet as Laswell emerges through the door, stopping along the bar to get herself something to drink as well. She sits down to them all muttering a greeting to her. A familiar feeling settles back into Ghost. This is what he knows, this is what he does. He can feel the fog in his head lifting more as the seconds tick by. They're all focused on her as she starts talking about Venezuela. Ghost had a feeling he would get closer than just TV reports. Of course the president knew, the missiles aren't even the tip of the iceberg. Ghost empties the last of his Bourbon with the intention of getting another one as Price announces he has to take a piss before Laswell continues.

He stands by the bar, waiting for the uneasy looking bartender to fill his glass when the door opens again. The cold air of the night creeping in carries something with it that has Ghost turning his head towards it. Of course his gaze catches her eyes first. They look around the dark room, trying to find someone.

Her hair looks full and shiny again. Ghost's eyes follow the soft curl of it down her chest, almost feeling his hand closing around the soft and malleable flesh again. The turtleneck sweater under her oversized flight jacket is tight, tucked into her dark jeans. He feels her skin along his fingers, tracing up her legs and over the fullness of her ass. His pulse rises with every passing moment, her pull is magnetic, something in Ghost winds incredibly tight at her sight. The guys and Laswell at the table haven't noticed her yet, too deep in conversation to look around. She sees them, her brows drawn together as she counts only two alongside Laswell.

The clank of Ghost's glass being sat down on the bar for him catches her attention. The line that's wound up within Ghost snaps in an exhilarating sensation that prickles along his neck when their eyes meet. Even through the dim haze they glimmer and all his focus zeroes in on her. Her face softens as she recognizes him, a small smile curls on her lips as she walks over to him. She's wearing perfume, something heavy and sweet, Ghost notices as she leans onto the bar next to him.

"Ghost." she breathes.

"Gloss."

He stands up straight and turns toward her, blocking her from being seen by the others with his broad frame. This is just for him. He gets to have her first. Alone.

She's wearing makeup, her eyes dark and lips glossy. It makes her look even more exquisite. Ghost has to swallow. He thinks back to the base in Kosovo, her mouth stretched around his dick and her eyes wet with tears, she'd look so nice with ruined makeup running down her cheeks. He'd make her face a mirror, smearing his fingers through the dark streaks, spread them around alongside his cum painted on her face, tell her how pretty she looks like this.

"What can I get you Ma'am?" the fucking bartender chimes from next to him and Ghost's hand almost reaches for his knife that's not there.

"A double vodka soda please." she answers but never turns her eyes away from Ghost.