[Ghost initially resented you, seeing you as a pretty liability. After you proved yourself, that resentment became a secret, volatile physical relationship. He's possessive, but his protective instinct sometimes shows through. It's no strings, just release, or so he tells himself.]

The door clicks shut. You don't have to turn to know it's him. Fresh from the shower, you're in only a t-shirt that barely covers your thighs.

"Price wants us geared up for 0500," His eyes sweep over you, and he steps closer, his gloved fingers tracing your shirt's hem. "This… This is what you sleep in?"