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the-red-thread-that-strangles · 15 days

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Part I

"Are you free Thursday evening?" Akai's facing away from him, getting out of the car in a hurry. Rei's picked him up from his flat this morning (his mustang broke down, apparently), which is how they're both running late now. It's a good thing the meeting can't start without them.

In any case, Rei isn't - things have been busy in the aftermath of the takedown of the organisation, as Akai should be well aware. He did, after all, just return from a three-month vacation to FBI headquarters in Washington. The official cover story, as far as Rei knows, is Okiya going to the US to continue his PhD, while the authorities prepared to reintroduce the reborn Akai Shuichi to the world. Now he's back for good, officially appointed as the FBI's liaison to the PSB.

While he didn't share what he was up to while he was waiting to be processed, Rei has a pretty good guess - the higher-ups have been expecting all sorts of reports from him, after all, and surely Akai is just as vital a source, involved as they both were. The thought of him doing paperwork is amusing, and strangely domestic in its mundanity. (He'd love to see it.)

So, he'll figure something out. Several people owe him favours, and he has five years of vacation to catch up on. This is the first time Akai is reaching out for a meeting outside of work (not that Rei kept track or anything), and he's not about to let that chance slip through his fingers.

"I'll make it work. What for?" Agreeing without even knowing what he agreed to, he really is pathetic. And yet. He trusts the other won't waste his time or ask for the impossible.

"Dinner at the Myosotis. Seven p.m."

Rei blinks. That rings a bell. Western style fine dining, prohibitively expensive. Waiting lists of half a year, at least. Back then, they were just barely collaborating, surely Akai didn't plan this far ahead? How, then, did he get a table, and why is he inviting Rei to go there? That's the kind of place people go to for romantic marriage proposals; not the sort of restaurant the two of them would frequent, if they do eat out.

"I've already said yes, but... that's quite high-class, isn't it?" Not that he minds - being Bourbon taught him how to frequent places like that. It's just that Akai has never given any sort of indication he might like that kind of place. Huh.

(And really, if he's being honest, any place would be fine as long as it's with Akai. They have a couple of months to catch up on, after all.)

The smile Akai gives him in response is...odd. Small and genuine, private in the way that he's only ever seen Shuichi look at a select few people. Akemi. His siblings. Shinichi. But it doesn't reach his eyes, this time; instead, they're narrowed, burning with something like dread. Rei can't quite make sense of the expression.

"I think the occasion warrants it", is all Akai says before he slams the car door shut, turning his back to Rei. And that's the end of that conversation.

Alright then. Weird.

After that, Rei can't shake the feeling that Akai avoids him outside of work. Takes his smoke breaks alone, leaves immediately after they're done.

In situations like these Rei wishes he could talk to Hiro. It's a best friend's duty to help figure out if he's making something out of nothing, right? Maybe Akai really is just busy. And maybe he truly is in the mood for a celebratory dinner; after all, they haven't really had time to spend together since they came out of hiding, ripped apart by work and duty. They've talked, of course, but now that he's back it seems like the circumstances have calmed down enough to consider such a thing. (Even though a nagging thought tells him the official celebratory gala will be held in two weeks, and he knows Akai isn't looking forward to it.)

The thing is, that doesn't warrant it the look Akai gave him. That look was charged, it meant something. Through the years, Akai has looked at him a great many different ways. Rye mostly cold and disinterested at first, then with that faintly concealed amusement that still drives him up the walls. Okiya usually observed him with curiosity and caution. And Akai? A variety of expressions. Laughter and pain and gratitude. That bone-deep weariness that seems to cling to him like his shadow. Just once, with surprise. But rarely, if ever, as scared as he'd looked when he'd asked him out.

What was he afraid of? It's not like Rei was going to decline dinner, even if he's a little insulted it's western food. (Then again, he's quite proud of his prowess regarding traditional Japanese cuisine, so really, that would've been a worse choice.) Akai might just crave nostalgic food.

This is the third time this week he's reached this point in the argument with himself, and it really doesn't feel like he's getting any closer to the truth.

In the years he's known him, Akai has never shown to be the type to celebrate. Not that the organisation left much room to celebrate. As Okiya, Rei never got close enough to figure out his preferences. And as for Akai...well, he seemed happy enough, if exhausted, coming back from his sister's birthday party, and that's really the only indication Rei has. Maybe he doesn't know Akai as well as he thought. The idea stings.

Still, it makes no sense. If he wanted to celebrate, the takedown was a team effort, and Rei knows agents Starling and Black are in the country. He's checked their schedules, but neither they nor Kazami are free next week, at that certain hour. (Alright, well, in Kazami's case it might be Rei's fault he's busy, but he needs someone capable to cover for him.)

The Kudos, arguably the masterminds behind the operation, have left for a vacation to the Swiss alps, too. Allegedly, they've taken Shinichi with them to recover in mountain air - privately, Rei has heard through the grapevine that talking things out with Ran didn't go so well. She's asked for some time to think about their relationship, so Shinichi is off bringing crime to Swiss ski resorts for a change.

None of the usual suspects are free, or invited. It seems it's really just the two of them.

He doesn't want to, can't afford to indulge the foolish hope that Akai might've missed him as much as Rei did (his dry wit, his dependability, the scent of his cigarettes and aftershave in their sheets). They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but is it enough for such a shift to occur with Akai?

Their work did keep them too busy to do anything but exchange short texts or calls every once in a while. That little had been a must, for Rei; while officially the organisation might be gone, some stragglers have yet to be found. Thus, he's been checking up on Akai, just to make sure he's still alright out there. (He wants to touch him and hold him and hear his heartbeat, wants to make sure he's alive. Wants too many things he can't have, as usual.)

Rei has promised himself he'll never act on these feelings; can't destroy this careful balance they have managed to attain. But if Akai's the one reaching out, who is Rei to decline? If after all they've gone through Akai still wants to stay by his side, Rei doesn't have the strength to push him away for his own good.

Throughout their relationship, it's always been Rei asking to meet him to exchange sweaters and information. For Akai to take this step now, and in such a grandiose manner, leaves him reeling, uncertain of the other's intentions. Among the living, he's probably the one who knows the sniper best, and yet he just can't figure out what this means. The uncertainty is maddening.

Damnit, really, what is he supposed to think about Akai inviting him to a high-class dinner? Just the two of them?

Hiro hasn't contacted him either, since that time in the Kudo mansion. He'd assured Rei he was safe, doing alright. Sorry for not being able to meet. And that was that.

(In a moment of weakness, Rei's asked Akai for his number. But Akai had revealed he'd only gotten the contact info for a burner phone, worthless after that one use.)

He's missed Hiro before, when he wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead, but somehow, knowing he is out there and not being able to reach him is worse. Hiro was supposed to have his back, and now he can't even help him out with his uncertain thoughts and feelings regarding one Akai Shuichi. Traitor.

Rei's fretting for hours about his look for dinner. (When was he last out on a date that actually mattered?)

It's not like he's lacking in confidence. He knows he cleans up nicely, and working with Vermouth for years has left him fashion-conscious. He's perfectly aware of how to dress up appropriately for a venue like the Myosotis. Honestly, he's more concerned (and quite frankly, intrigued) how Akai will fare.

Still, he wonders if the red tie is perhaps a bit too much. He's added it on a whim, for a splash of colour, but now he's considering whether it's too bold, wearing Akai's namesake openly. He's probably overthinking it. It's not like Akai to pick up on such clues.

He's triple-checked, by this point, his nails and hair and teeth. His suit is crisply ironed. It's perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

Rei finds himself at the restaurant a quarter hour early. A waiter shows him to the lovely window seats Akai has reserved for them, looking out over the city's lights. It's beautiful. The place is pleasantly quiet, a separée creating an ambience of privacy. Bathing the space in warm light is a cream candle, placed on a perfectly ironed tablecloth. After a couple of moments, the waiter returns with a bottle of quality champagne, chilled for their convenience.

Myosotis couldn't be more stereotypically romantic if it tried, and Rei finds his face burning as hot as the flame in front of him. It's a good thing he's a little early; he'll need time to steady himself to face Akai. Maybe have a glass of cool champagne to calm his nerves.

Rei runs one last check, refreshes his cologne on neck and wrist, and waits.

A couple minutes go by, during which he tries several different grounding techniques, to limited effect. He still perks up when, from the corner of his eyes, he spots Okiya's pastel pink hair - though it is in confusion, the excitement dying down quickly, replaced with fury. The posture of the man is incredibly familiar.

Conscious of where they are, and what is appropriate, Rei gets up from their table to greet him.

"You've kept me waiting long enough."

And with the brightest possible smile he can muster, he slaps his best friend across the face, hard.

"Yeah, I guess I deserve that." At least it's his own voice. Hiro's awkward smile looks off on Okiya's pretty face, and Rei has to fight the urge to throw his arms around his neck. Whether to hug him or strangle him, he doesn't quite know, himself.

"You..." 'deserve much worse than that. Deserve much better than that. Are an asshole and an idiot and it's so good to see you-'

People are noticing the commotion. Bourbon's reflexes kick in, uncomfortable with the attention. He finds himself closing the distance and hissing at Hiro.

"Take a seat before we cause even more of a scene."

Hiro-as-Okiya follows him into the separée. A waiter comes by, pouring him a glass of champagne too. The mood is as frosty as their drinks.

Hiro makes no move to continue the conversation. Great.

"...would you care to explain", Rei asks through his best Amuro smile, "what exactly you are doing here?" He considers adding 'and why you are dressed as Akai's ridiculous cover', but figures that one's self-evident.

"I wanted to see you, so Akai helped me out. The paperwork is taking its sweet time." He says it nonchalantly, as if it is that simple. As if he hasn't been MIA for half a year, and presumed KIA for years before that.

He's willing to bet this meeting was Akai's bright idea. Rei's all too familiar with his idea of 'help'. Doing what he thinks is best in the shadows, without talking to the person he's allegedly helping out.

It sucks, because he knows the FBI agent meant well. He probably thought this was a pleasant surprise. (And it is, just a little.)

It just very much does not help that Rei had quite different expectations of how this evening would go. He was expecting something much nicer than spontaneously having to decide whether he should make use of Hiro's shellfish allergy and poison him right then and there. (The answer is no, will always be no, who is he even kidding.)

Hiro's blue eyes stare at him from across the table, illuminated in warm candlelight. They clash horribly with the pink hair. It makes Rei nauseous. He looks down at the table.

He manages a strangled "I would have appreciated a heads-up." For this situation in particular and the fact that Hiro's alive, in general.

"Did he not tell you?"

"No. And it's not like I expected anything of the sort from him." 'You, however, should have known better.'

"Look, Zero-" Rei's withering glare makes him falter for a second, but he presses on. "I couldn't let you know. It was too dangerous at the time, for myself and Rye. And you."

Oh, great. Another person looking out for his supposed well-being. Except, it really only was about the success of their mission, wasn't it? As if that was ever worth his best friend's life.

He clenches his fist under the table, tries to calm himself. Fails. "I get that. I really, truly do." He rises, slams his hands on the table, leans across. Stares at the farce that is Okiya, just a lie this time.

"But it's been three years, Hiro." Then, quietly: "I thought you were dead."

Countless nights spent visiting morgues, checking if all bodies matching Hiro's stature were accounted for. Checking international flights. Investigating the ruins of the exploded building, in hopes of finding evidence of tampering. Looking over the remains of the body, burnt and crushed, with only the totality of the destruction hinting at foul play. Years and years of hounding Akai, trying to get answers from the one person who had to know, only to not make it in time. That terrible night Gin had sent him a gift, Akai falling lifelessly back into the video's frame, joining Scotch in a violent end; his last lead going up in flames and smoke. Mourning Matsuda and Date, alone.

He fights down the bile rising in his throat with practiced ease. His eyes sting and burn, but he won't be embarrassed now by giving in.

To his credit, Hiro has backed off as far as he can, shrinking under Rei's glare. Familiar blue eyes lock with his, and Rei needs to focus on them because everything else about the Okiya getup gives him whiplash he doesn't know how to deal with. Hiro takes a breath, steadies himself.

"Zero." A warm hand is gently laid atop his own. So familiar, so comforting, even after years apart. Rei wants to run, or fight, or both, but finds himself anchored in place.

"I'm sorry. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, as many times as you need me to."

As if any number of apologies could erase years and years of grief and guilt and loneliness. If he'd just been faster, if Hiro had just trusted him, they would've found a solution, it was never worth his life-

"...why didn't you come to me, Hiro?" Idiot.

Because after months and years to contemplate it, that's the root of the problem, isn't it? The start of the betrayal. The broken promise from their academy days, splintering even further. 'We can handle anything, as long as we're together.' And then fate had ripped them apart, one by one, counting down to zero. Except Hiro had had a choice.

"I'm sorry. I did what I thought was necessary." He wears his emotions on his face.

And for a split-second, Rei doesn't see Hiro. He sees Akai, a week ago; his small smile, his pained eyes. Denial and self-sacrifice. Just what in the world made Akai look at him like that?

It's disorienting enough that he finds his spiralling thoughts interrupted, blinking at Hiro. He backs off, sits back down.

"Promise me, now, that you'll never run off like that again." Please, he can't say, but tries to convey through squeezing Hiro's hand just slightly too hard, before he pulls back in time for the waiter coming in with their entrées.

"I'll try."

Rei glares at him. Not good enough.

"Okay, okay, I won't." Hiro laughs, and oh, how Rei has missed the sound. Some of the tension bleeds out of him, and he finds himself joining his best friend, helplessly.

This isn't over, the pain isn't gone. It's unlikely it ever will, and there surely will be more arguments in the future (and sparring. He really wants to knock some more sense into Hiro). The trust they're missing will be hard to rebuild.

But Rei has had no choice but to live without Hiro for three years now. Has missed him painfully, every single day. If he's going to live in pain either way, might as well have it caused by Hiro's continued presence by his side.

If he gets a second chance at life then Hiro deserves one, too.

...................................................................................

Part II

Dinner after that is slow, but pleasant.

Akai has apparently pre-ordered roasts that need several days to be prepared for them, and while the quality is good, the style of food just isn't Rei's favourite. Hiro seems pretty delighted by it though, so that's something at least.

They leave charged topics carefully untouched. Since Hiro isn't on active duty, Rei can't really talk about his PSB work, and Hiro isn't at liberty to talk about his cover either. So small talk it is. Rei shows Hiro pictures of Haro, and he's immediately taken (as he should).

By the time they've made it past the main dish, they're running out of idle chitchat. Hiro's bracing himself, seems to be working up the courage to ask something. Rei can already tell he won't like the upcoming conversation.

"So, Zero." He folds his hands together, and leans on the table, looking inquisitively. "Do you mind explaining what's going on between you and Akai?"

"Nothing." The answer comes too quick and too pressed, he's not fooling anyone. And that's without accounting for the fact that Hiro knows him too well, even after three years apart. He smiles, faintly.

"Of course. Nice cologne, by the way. I'm sure Hagiwara would approve of the selection." He taps the fingers of the hand he's wrapped around Rei's wrist earlier on the wooden table. Rei feels embarrassment well up. Hiro, as usual, is annoyingly perceptive. Still, cologne is not too out of the ordinary. He tries to cover his choice up with professionalism, and even almost believes himself.

"Yes. It's only proper for an establishment such as this one."

"Yes, yes." Hiro concedes, too easily. His eyes narrow, aiming for the kill. "And I guess red just happens to be your new favourite colour?" The crimson tie around his neck feels too much like a noose, suddenly, restricting his airflow. It's probably the damn candle's fault too, burning all their oxygen. He flushes, despite his best efforts.

"Not my favourite, but it felt appropriate for a celebration", he gets out. It really doesn't help that Hiro is wearing Akai's second skin, the one he's too comfortable seeing. Though the eyes are different, he has trouble shaking the reminder of certain evenings in the Kudo manor. Drinking their sorrows away, just the two of them.

"And you were going to celebrate with a romantic candlelight dinner?" Hiro's arched eyebrow could reach space.

"Trust me, that is as strange to me as it must be to you."

"Oh no, it isn't - I've seen the look he gets when you text him."

And Rei hates himself, hates his traitorous body that perks up at those words, hates the burning curiosity. Wants Hiro to explain, wants it to be true. Hates that Hiro knows how to play him, still, judging by that infuriatingly kind smile. Hiro is so lucky they're in public. He'd very much like to wipe it from his face.

Rei wonders, briefly, if that's why Akai selected the location, and didn't tell him the truth - if he'd asked, Rei's not sure he would have agreed to meet Hiro, the betrayal still too painful in his mind. Not that this kind of secrecy is appreciated. He really thought they were past that, by now. He'll need to deal with Akai, properly, later.

"Do I look like I care about what the FBI idiot is up to?"

He knows a tactical misstep when he sees it, and he's walked right into this one.

"To be quite honest with you: yes." Hiro hides his smile behind his glass of champagne. Badly. His eyes shine with amusement.

Damnit. What's the point of pretending when Hiro just sees right through him anyways? Rei's so tired of fighting himself at every step.

"Alright, fine. Make yourself useful, then. What did he look like?"

"He lit up like his phone's screen whenever a new text arrived." That, at least, is soothing. There had been quite a few texts. He'd assumed, after all, that he was keeping a bored and lonely Akai company. Just how long has Hiro been with him? Did Akai just ignored his best friend during their flight in favour of chatting with Rei? Asshole.

"If I dare say so, it was quite cute."

Rei doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. His burning cheeks probably provide more of an answer than he would like to give, anyways.

"Alright, I won't push you if you don't want to talk about it. Just know that I'll have an open ear for you, if you change your mind." He slips a card with a handwritten phone number in it. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Rei memorizes it, then burns the paper.

"By the way." Hiro seems a little concerned, fiddling with his glass. "Akai gave me a couple of odd looks while we were flying back. Any idea what that's about? He went out of his way to sneak me into the country, and we had some good talks, so I struggle to see why he's upset with me?"

At this point, the waiter brings in their dessert.

A medium-sized chocolate cake, heart-shaped. A fork is delicately placed on either side.

Hiro shrugs in response to his questioning look. Amuro's customer service smile slips on easily enough. "I'm sorry? I think you've mistaken the dessert for this table."

"Ah, no, gentlemen. All dishes have been prepared according to the requests of the person making the reservation." How odd.

They thank the waiter, wait until he's out of earshot.

Disjointed information is snapping into place.

"Hiro, you've seen more of him recently. Please tell me this is Akai's idea of a joke."

Because the man has a keen sense of humour, even if it's often only for his own amusement. Gods know as Bourbon Rei wanted to strangle him for his quiet mockery.

But surely he can't be implying what Rei thinks he's implying.

"Hm." Hiro pauses for a minute, bless him, actually contemplating the issue while taking an appreciative bite from the chocolate cake. Which they will not be sharing, like that. Rei cuts it in half with his fork, dragging one half towards his side of the plate.

"I don't think so, no. It's hard to tell with him." 'No, it's not', Rei wants to say, 'you can tell by the barely visible laughter lines around his eyes.' He wisely keeps his mouth shut. It wouldn't help his case about how little is going on between him and Akai.

"But I'm inclined to say he was painfully sincere. It was his idea to arrange this dinner, and before he dropped me off, he wished me good luck. I assumed, at the time, that he was concerned about me walking back out alive without my head bitten off. Now, I think he might have somehow gotten the wrong idea about us."

Rei shoves a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. The icing melts pleasantly on his tongue.

Akai set him up on a date with his best friend.

The FBI agent can be so smart when he needs to. How is he so hopeless whenever interpersonal relationships are involved?

"Idiot."

That's going to be a fun talk.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

#this one's long. I recommend a tea break after part 1 #if I had any sense I'd post this split in two. for better impact. but I don't want to.#this plot belongs together #putting rei through the wringer for a change :)#anyways. i was this 🤏 close to writing “why does akai call you babygirl”#in my heart of hearts Akai blackmailed a guy for his spot on the waiting list #threatened to publicly expose the mistress he planned to bring. poor guy is probably even sponsoring this dinner #long post #akam #iris writes things #sweater weather AU

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

Text

Mistress.

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB!Reader

TW: femdom! reader, slight degradation?, complete and utter submission, masturbation

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a hulking giant of a man, a solid figure of authority on base and the reaper itself on the field, passing through the enemy like smoke, taking their lives with him— had a big secret. To find out, even by chance, is a death sentence.

Simon on leave always went home to an empty flat. He just doesn't have the time to meet anyone, and he figures no one would want to have a relationship with someone who leaves for months on end and with little to no communication. But that didn't mean he did not want someone to spoil. Shower them with gifts and the money he accumulated over years of serving because he never had any time to spend it on anything other than basic necessities.

So once he was home, he indulged in his secret. His Mistress. You.

Sending £800 to your bank account, he sent a text.

'I'm home, Mistress.'

A reply, minutes later.

'You paid your tribute. I'll indulge you just this once, but you ought to remember we work on my schedule, not yours.'

'Of course, my Mistress. I humbly apologize.'

'I will be there in 30. You will not make me wait at the door.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

The Lieutenant was always overlooking something or someone on base, so you were perfect for him. You demanded complete control, and if not given, you took it regardless— and nothing was sweeter than having such a large man submit to you and only you.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You arrived outside his door, and without knocking just said, 'Simon.'

The front door was opened almost immediately, and you were greeted with Simon on his knees — you'll never get over how delicious he looks submitting to you even though he's so tall his head reaches your hipbones and you're in heels — with a collar already on his neck and the leash's handle on his raised palm. You step inside and watch him close the door.

'Good boy,' you murmur as you take the handle, 'Look at me.'

He lifts his head as you look down at him and you see his blue eyes soften at your outfit— which you'll never admit you purposefully put on, knowing it's his favorite based on past meetings.

You're wearing a pink latex corset dress with the laces tied tight on the entire back of the dress and the length of the dress reaches your upper thigh. For stockings, you have petal pink, sheer stay-ups, and your shoes are 'So Kate' 120mm in the same rosy color— and to finish the look, you've got on a long, black a-line wool coat that you're currently taking off and putting on the coat hanger by the front door.

Leash in hand, you walk towards the leather couch, hearing Simon's jeans dragging on his carpet as he crawls behind you before you turn and sit, crossing your legs.

"Permission to take your heels off, Goddess."

"Permission granted. You know what to do."

He takes your dainty foot in both his hands and presses his lips on your ankle, before moving on to the bridge of your foot. Squeezing the counter of your heel, he pulls it, and your toes slip from the shoebox— he gives a pathetic moan at the sight of your stocking-covered, white nail-polished toes.

Removing your other heel, he grabs both of your feet and places them flat on the floor before, still kneeling, he lowers his head to worship you, peppering kisses anywhere he can put his lips on.

You extend your toes and press them to his forehead, pushing him back up and away from you.

"That's enough."

He immediately kneels back on his haunches, and you look at his face to take in his body language. Pupils so large his iris is a thin blue ring, cheeks red and blotchy, mouth slightly agape as he let out shuddering wispy breaths.

Yanking on his collar, you open your legs and pull him to slot in between them. How his torso blankets your entire body makes your toes curl— and that he's still in a submissive pose and still massive makes your walls clench.

Simon, biting his lower lip, lets out a loud groan— gripping the side of the sofa cushions by your knees as his eyes gaze directly to the apex of your thighs. Right to your unclothed quim. Simon is the only sub that's ever seen you in any state of undress. He's the only one you'd fuck straight into his mattress if he begged, and he never looked so good than when he's begging you for attention.

You entangle your fingers into his ash-brown hair and pull, hard, to make eye contact and say, 'The next time you stare at anything other than my eyes without my explicit permission and I walk. I'll drain your bank account of every single pound and you'll thank me for it before I cut off all contact. This is your first and last warning."

Simon whimpers a pitiful little noise before jerking his head in an aggressive nod.

"Yes, my mistress."

You yank on his hair hard enough to wiggle his head a little and loudly say,

"Yes, my mistress what???"

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and proclaims, " Yes, my mistress. I am wholly unworthy of your beautiful gift. I deserve absolutely nothing from you."

Biting your lip, you let go of his hair and drag it down towards his jaw to softly cup his cheek.

In a faint, caressing voice you say, "Good boy. Staying in your place is easy once you're reminded of it."

You recline back, shift your eyes down to the monstrous bulge in Simon's pants before pressing your whole foot against his erection— noticing how there's still about 3 inches that your foot doesn't cover, jesus christ—

"What's this, then?", and you push your foot harder into him, and Simon gives a low moan, from deep in his chest— and he lowers his head, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open.

"Well? I asked a question and I did say it in english."

Simon raises his head and his eyes are glossy, scar across the corner of his upper lip whitening with how he thins them before answering.

"Oh, my Mistress, my Queen. I'm just so happy you're here, giving me your complete attention," and in a quieter, vulnerable tone says, "I missed this. Missed you."

That has your heart pounding against your rib cage. You clench your jaw— you cannot show Simon how exhilarated those words make you. You've been harboring the tiniest crush on Simon, and how could you not? Look at him. 6 foot 4, 320 pounds and he submits so beautifully. You'd ruin him. And with the small feel you've gotten from his cock, he'd definitely ruin you. But not now. Simon deserves a reward for being so good and obedient.

"Go on, pet. Show me how much you've really missed me. For you, I'll permit your release." Only for you.

Hands flying to his zipper, he takes his thick, long length out— what a fucking cock it was too, you can't wait to get your hands on it— he starts stroking it, skin bunching up at the flared head on the upstroke and Simon presses his thumb down on his slit. He lets out a hiss as he starts smearing the pre-come around the head and then smooths out the skin on the way down.

Your arm is stretched out holding your weight as you lean to the side, head tilted and you flick your eyes to Simon's face and you startle— Simon's holding direct eye contact, tongue wetting his bottom lip and you can feel heat radiating from your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You don't look away though. You stare right into his eyes as the room starts to fill with faster paced, wet, skin slapping noises— and Simon's eyes roll to the back of his head as his eyes close and you look back down to his cock, so hard, swollen red and slippery with his pre-come.

You can hear his teeth grinding together, shoulders stiffening and tattooed forearm vascular with how tight he's squeezing his cock and he chokes out, "Please, Mistress. Let me come, let me come, I'm so close—god"

" Come for your Mistress, Simon. Be a good boy and come for me."

Simon moans loud as his back bows forward and he encircles your ankle with his hand to stabilize himself as his length spurts rope after rope of thick cum inches from your toes— continuously stroking himself through the aftershocks and into oversensitivity.

He puts both palms flat on the floor as he gulps in big shaky breaths, arms trembling slightly. You stand up, carefully stepping around his come, and slip into your heels. Simon raises his head to look at you and— look at that simple, empty expression. You want to sit on that face 'til he repeatedly taps your thick thigh, begging for air— and tell him to clean up his mess. You put on your jacket, close it with the belt and leave.

Your pocket vibrates with a text, and tap the screen to read the text.

Simon: I beg you, my Angel. Let me look at your beautiful pussy as I come, next time.

You: You know what to do.

And then a notification from your bank.

Simon Riley has deposited £4000.

Pressing your phone screen to your chin as hold in a squeal, you cannot wait to get your hands on him.

'Only ever for you.'

A/N: i'd give all the cod boys the gawk gawk without question. at the same time. and valeria can sit on my face til i stop breathing.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

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