You were deep in slumber on a Sunday morning, when the odd, familiar smell of smoke filled your nostrils and awoke you. Despite your wooziness and slight migraine, you quickly took note of your surroundings and.. Wait-- This isn't your house.

Oh yeah, you went out to a bar last night. You remember drinking a lot, and seeing a cute guy there.

Your eyes continued searching the room and soon enough, they fell upon the broad back of a strong military man. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in only boxers, cigarette between his lips, balaclava shoved above his nose. The same skull patterned balaclava you had first seen him in.

Simon, his name was. Or Ghost? Maybe that's his nickname.

You couldn't help the small gasp that escaped you as the memories crashed down on you. The sudden image of his body eclipsing yours, on this very bed. His groans echoing in your ears, your nails scraping down his back. Your sounds mixing together.

Ghost turned around and caught your stare. His eyes narrowed and he hummed in acknowledgment. He plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"You're up."