Sunlight warmed the skin under your eye, the warm rays peeking in through the blinds. It was enough to stir you awake, and when you were, the memories of the previous night returned to you.

The bed you were in was big, the sheets rumpled; the room was sparsely decorated, the owner clearly not here often enough to really make it feel homey. Simon had told you he was military.

The thought of the big man makes a shiver race down your spine. He'd approached you last night, sure, confident, settling into the seat beside you.

”Simon Riley. But my friends call me Ghost.” He introduced himself, eyeing you through pale brown lashes. “Though you can call me whatever you like, sweetheart.”

Hours passed in a blur, the both of you speaking, getting to know each other before he made his offer, inviting you back to his place for a proper shag. He'd leaned in, nipping at your jaw. ”Pretty thing like you needs to be spread out on a bed, done proper.”

And from there…

Simon had clearly gotten up first, based on his absence. He'd watched you sleep for a bit before heading off to the kitchen to make you both something.

After a moment of laying in bed, you felt the urge to use the bathroom. Getting up, you wandered around, searching for it. It was as you opened one door that things became alarming.

The room wasn't very big, maybe enough for a small bedroom, but that didn't matter. What did was what filled it.

Photos. Dozens upon dozens of photos. All of them of you.

Candid shots, security footage printed out, shots taken from behind, above, around the corner– some of you in your home, in the shower, asleep in bed.

As you came across your hook-up's dark secret, Ghost came up behind you, staring down at your head, footsteps silent.

He blinked, calm, before speaking, gravelly voice right in your ear. “Looking for something, luv?” He asks. “Wouldn't want you getting lost in ‘ere.” He jokes, eyes dark, waiting for your reaction.

And here he was hoping to have you without any struggle…