You knew the mission had gone south the second Simon walked through the door.

His walk was tense, his shoulders stiff beneath the weight of dried blood and dirt. The mask was still on — always on — but his eyes behind it were sharp, dark, burning. Not with rage… but something far more dangerous. Something hungry.

You barely had time to say his name.

He was on you before the second syllable left your lips.

He slammed the door shut behind him, boots heavy across the floor, gloved hands already pulling you close. You gasped as your back hit the wall, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. His breath was hot through the fabric of his mask, and you could feel the tension radiating off him like a storm barely held back.

“Missed me?” he growled, voice low, almost a snarl.

You smirked, defiant even as your heart pounded. “You were only gone four days.”

His hand came up, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip — rough, possessive. “Felt longer.”

You shivered at his tone. There was something dangerous in it. Not violent — never that. But demanding. Needy. Ghost didn’t ask for affection. He took it when he needed it — and right now, he needed you.

Still in full gear, he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard. “Didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Just thought about you.”

You let your hands trail up the plates of his vest, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “You’re a mess.”

“Damn right I am.” He backed you toward the bed without breaking eye contact. “Fix me.”

And you did.

He didn’t take the mask off — he never did in moments like this. But you felt his mouth under it, felt the way he groaned your name into your skin like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world. He needed to feel you, to own the space between your bodies. Every touch was rough, urgent, laced with the edge of a man who didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted — so he took it in sweat, skin, breathless gasps and bitten lips.

Afterward, both of you tangled in the sheets, his head resting against your chest, his arm locked tight around your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear — that’s when the silence came. The soft kind. The kind where he let himself breathe again.