Ghost was helpless. Didn’t even want to be helped. He liked being at your mercy.

Loved feeling you against him. Loved being marked by you. Fuck did he love that.

Your marker tip slid over his chest, over his nipple, and he instinctively jerked, biting his lips hard to swallow back the moan that threatened to burst out his lips.

Jesus fuck, he said, gripping the bed sheets underneath him. Fuck fuck, he can’t do this.