You two were prepped for a nice ride out to the beach on Ghost's Kawasaki, and your fidgety hands couldn't get your helmet done with, so with a grumble Ghost stepped up.

"You're hopeless, y'know tha'?" he hummed, not even a twinge of annoyance in his tone, his helmet against yours, almost like a no-contact kiss, so intoxicatingly close as he buckled the strap under your chin.

The whine that escaped his lips and the shiver that ran up his spine was expected as you sneaked your warm, gloved hands up his shirt, tracing along his midriff and his ribs as he continued to struggle doing your buckle.

"How many time d'I 'ave to say: don't do that." he warned.